Change of hearts
by Nirain
Summary: The life in Downton Abbey was moving on the same routine as before, until the arrive of eccentric Lord Brasher, his footman and valet will turn it upside down. Will they affect the arranged life of downstairs? And what secrets are hiding the Lord's servants?
1. Chapter 1

'It was Lord Brasher's request.' Mr. Carson boomed, his eyes never leaving the face of under butler. 'And I believe there won't be any problems, is that right, Mr. Barrow?' He didn't have to take a look around to know that everyone's eyes were focused at him, waiting for his reply.

'If Lord Brasher insists to have his footman in Downton, shall it be. Though I don't see any reasons why should we have another footman.' Thomas replied. 'We're doing very well.'

'That should not concern you, Mr. Barrow. I'm only asking you to take care of a new footman, when he arrives tomorrow morning, and introduce him to his duties. Am I clear, Mr. Barrow?' Thomas jaw clenched.

'I bet Mr. Barrow is dying to take care of new footman.' Jimmy snickered at the other end of table, unfortunately for him, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room. Thomas glanced at him briefly, his heart ache. After their reunion last year he hoped he and Jimmy could start all over again, and forget about the past. And though he could call them being friends, it didn't stop the young man from throwing a nasty comments to him from time to time or point out his sexuality in front of everyone.

'I don't see any reasons for you to take a part in discussion, James.' Mr. Carson said in a deep and not very pleasant voice, while Mrs. Hughes shot him a warning glance. 'Mrs. Patmore wouldn't be pleased if your food gets cold.'

'Of course, Mr. Carson.' Jimmy nodded, his cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

'At what time should I expect the new footman arrives?' Thomas asked reluctantly, didn't hide his dissatisfaction.

'After our breakfast.' Mr. Carson replied shortly, his eyes stopped for a little longer at under butler. 'I believe you remember Patrick Coleman.' Fork slipped from between Thomas fingers and soundly hit the plate.

'This Coleman? The youngest son of our ex-gardener?' He couldn't believe his own ears.

'Yes, that's the one.' Mr. Carson confirmed, somehow looking very pleasant. 'Mr. Coleman was a very-hard working and trustful man, and I believe his son would not disappoint Lord Grantham.'

'Well, if he hadn't change even a bit during the last few years, I very doubt he'd be very pleasant if he sees how much stairs do we have in here.' He couldn't help a small smirk forming on his thin lips as in the back of his mind he recalled a corpulent lad with a long, greasy hair standing in doorway of the kitchen with his father. His plump cheeks and hands covered with dirt, a wide scar under right eye marred his whole appearance. Though he hadn't looked like the prettiest thing on the world, Thomas had to admit that his friendly behavior and puppy look on the face whenever he has felt bad about something, somehow compensate it. _In the end not appearance, but heart makes a man, _he thought with a wry smile.

'Mr. Barrow!' Mrs. Hughes scowled at him.

'I just hope you'd think twice, before you say anything around Mr. Coleman.' Mr. Carson boomed.

'We can always have faith.' Mr. Bates muttered with a smirk, earning a cold look from Thomas.

* * *

Jimmy shifted nervously on his feet, his gaze focused on the leaning against the wall under butler. The older man was smoking a cigarette and watched the coming out from between his parted lips smoke, which floated lazily into the night. He looked like he was too focused on his thoughts to notice him, but in truth Thomas was already aware of his presence. With the corner of the eye he had caught up a glimpse of blonde head, when the younger man only has crossed the threshold.

'Are you going to stand there for all night, or you're going to say something?' Thomas broke the silence as the first, deciding it was the right time to pull him out of oppression. Jimmy shuddered slightly, surprised.

'I thought we could play a round.' The younger man answered after short pause and showed Thomas a pile of cards.

'You're not tired, yet?' He smirked slightly and threw a cigarette on the ground, before stepped on it. 'I thought everyone are already in beds.'

'I couldn't sleep.' Jimmy said truthfully and kicked a small stone. 'So, you know that new footman…' He more stated, than ask.

'I saw him once, maybe twice, when he was a kid.' Thomas shrugged off and smirked slightly, deep down knowing that cards were only an excuse, and in truth the first footman wanted to learn more about his future, rival. 'He was nice, but nothing special.'

'Oh, I see you also like to check out young boys.' Jimmy said mockingly. 'And me was thinking I was special.' Though Thomas knew the lad was only winding him up, he felt hurt. Jimmy was threatening him like he was a predator, who's ready to jump on every male he passes by, regardless of his age or look, only to satisfy his needs.

'You're not a boy.' He murmured in response and looked gloomily over him. 'Shall we go inside?' He nodded toward the kitchen, hoping Jimmy would shut himself up and not bring up more awkward topics.

'You think he'd stay for long?' The footman continued and followed the man inside the house.

'Why would he? He's here only because Lord Brasher is staying in Downton. But that wouldn't last long, he has his own residence.' He pulled out one of the chairs and sat on it heavily. 'Feeling insecure, Jimmy?' He mocked.

'Why should I?' The younger man snorted, his back straightened. 'He's Lord Brasher footman.'

'Sure he is.' Thomas smirked and shuffled the card, just loving to watch that sulky expression on his friend's face. 'So, what do we play, tonight?'

* * *

'Don't you 'ave nothing to do, Thomas?' Mrs. Patmore barked behind his back.

'I have.' He replied shortly, his jaw clenched as he again looked at his watch. He was standing in the kitchen for the last half hour, and yet the new footman hasn't show up, like Mr. Carson has promised. With each passing minute he was getting more annoyed, his fingers fidget nervously as his body was in need for nicotine. Mrs. Patmore was still lingering behind him, her burning gaze making a hole in the back of his head. He knew she was waiting for more eloquent answer, but he wasn't in mood to cooperate.

'What bites you, today? Didn't get a kiss from James?' Mrs. Patmore chuckled amused and finally passed by him to get to the oven.

'Why Thomas would want James to kiss him?' Thomas smirked when Daisy practically flew into the kitchen, in hands carrying the bucket, her face pulled out. _Silly, little Daisy_, he thought amused. She'd never stopped amazed him how naïve she still could be. Mrs. Patmore only rolled her eyes at her and sighed heavily, didn't feel strength to have the same conversation, once again. She thought Daisy already got a hint, but it turned out she was wrong.

'Have you peel potatoes?!' Mrs. Patmore roamed instead and with slam she put down a roast she has moment earlier took out from the smoky oven. 'And where's Ivy?!'

'She's in pantry, Mrs. Patmore.' Daisy said and grabbed for the pot. 'And no, I haven't peel potatoes, it's Ivy's job.'

'Oh, really?' The cook snorted and looked heavily at her assistant. 'So, maybe you just go upstairs and tell Lordship that they won't get any potatoes today, because peeling it's beyond your duties. I'm sure he'll understand that.' Daisy looked gloomily and Mrs. Patmore, before with a quiet, _Yes, Mrs. Patmore, _she reached out for potatoes. 'Thomas, will ya just go back to your duties, or you want to spend a day standing like a pile of salt and not let us work properly?'

'When the new footman arrives, ask one of the maids to inform me.' He muttered and with the last full of anger look at the door, he marched out of the kitchen.

* * *

_It's Lord Grantham order. _The authoritative voice of Mr. Carson was still lingering in Jimmy's mind, when he and Alfred were supposed to move the piano on the other end of room. They held it in the air for no more than minute, but it long was enough to turn their faces red of the exertion and cause problems with breathing.

'Does he really think we can do that on our own?' Alfred breathed heavily and leaned over the piano. 'We need at least two more men.'

'We could ask Mr. Barrow to help us.' Jimmy suggested, as the black spots danced in front of his eyes. 'I saw him in Drawing Room helping maids replace a bulb.'

'You think he can lift anything heavy like that?' Alfred asked, doubted that under butler could help them in any way.

'Why wouldn't he?' His eyebrow arched. 'You think he's too _delicate_ to do it?'

'I've never said anything like that!' The other footman protested with flushed cheeks. 'It's always you who attacks Mr. Barrow, though you said you're friends with him.' He pointed out and crossed arms against the chest.

'I don't attack him!' Jimmy scowled annoyed with the man's accusation. 'I'm just joking, and Thom…I mean, Mr. Barrow, knows that.'

'Well, yesterday he didn't look happy about your remark.' _Well, it's not my fault he's different. _

'Maybe you just mind your business?' He bristled and gave him an evil glare. 'Stay here, I'll go for Mr. Barrow.'

'When I mentioned he might not be able to lift the piano, I thought about his hand. I heard Mrs. Hughes talking with Anna that Mr. Barrow's hand it's giving him a hard time recently. It hurts him a lot and even I noticed he's massaging it when he thinks no one looks.' Jimmy watched him baffled, his cheeks turned red. He's supposed to be Thomas friend, but he was the last one to notice his discomfort. Even such a stupid oak like Alfred saw that something was not right with under butler, and gladly used it against Jimmy. Then why him, who spends with Thomas a lot of his free time, wouldn't noticed he's in pain?

'You were busy flirting with a new maid.' Alfred offered with a smirk, and Jimmy realized he had to spoke up loudly his last statement. 'You'll make Mr. Barrow feel jealous.' The first footman watched him heavily, wishing he could wipe out that smug smile off his face. Before he could say anything back, Mr. Carson's voice came to their ears. He had to stand just outside the room and was scolding the hall boy.

In unison both Jimmy and Alfred grabbed for the piano and lifted it up. They barely made a few steps in the direction of first footman, when Alfred's foot stumble on the end of carpet and before he realized what's happening, he fall flat on the piano, sending it down with a loud thump, straight into Jimmy's foot. His yell melted with the rattle of piano keys, his hands wildly pushed up on the furniture to take it out from his injured limb. Alfred watched the other footman agape, his body still splayed over the piano.

'Alfred!' Jimmy cried in pain, tears streamed down his pale cheeks. Finally the other man pulled himself up and knelled down in front of Jimmy foot to help him slipped it out.

'What's going on, in here?!' Mr. Carson hollered as he appeared in the room and took a look at the scene in front of him.

'Piano dropped on James foot.' Alfred explained hurriedly, his heart running wildly in his chest as he watched butler's red face.

'Dropped?!' Mr. Carson snapped didn't believe in his impertinence. 'Just like that?!' Alfred knew what the man was implying, but he didn't dare to say nothing more to very angry man. He stayed on his knees and wrapped arms around Jimmy's who was rocking himself back and forth, in hands keeping injured limb.

'What happened?' The shouts coming out from the room quickly draw the attention of under butler. He stepped inside, surrounded by curious maids.

'Lord Brasher will arrive in few hours, and these two can't do properly even one thing, that's happened!' Mr. Carson barked. 'How Lord Grantham is going to welcome his guest, if nothing is prepared, yet?!'

'I think it's broken.' Jimmy almost squealed on the floor, his eyes stared with pleading at the under butler.

'I do hope, it's not!' Mr. Carson boomed and walked over the piano to check in what condition the furniture was, completely ignoring the footman.

'I believe James had in mind his foot.' Mr. Barrow said annoyed and gently grabbed for the younger man's arm. 'Caroline, help me get Jimmy to his bedroom, and you Alfred, ask Mrs. Hughes to call a doctor.' He ordered quickly and helped the footman stand up.

'Be quick, Alfred. Someone has to decorate the stairs with garlands.' Mr. Carson added, shooting a glare at Jimmy. 'I'm afraid, Mr. Barrow you'll have to replace James.'

'Of course, Mr. Carson.' Thomas nodded his head slightly and with the help of maid leaded the footman out of the room.

'You're still there?' The butler snapped as he noticed that the other footman was still kneeling on the floor, with a face of lost puppy.

'I'm on my way, Mr. Carson.' Alfred stuttered and quickly rushed toward the door. The butler couldn't stop himself from a quiet growl, when the footman stumbled on something and almost fall on the ground.

'Try to not ruin the whole house on your way.' Mr. Carson called after him and with a deep sigh looked down at the piano, wondering who's enough competent to make sure it's still able to use.

* * *

The pain in hand was getting beyond his endurance, but the list of his duties seemed to not have the end. They were already out of one footman and there was not too much use of limping Mr. Bates, so he was forced to cover them both. His throat was dry of constantly shouting at the female staff, and his back aching after he had to help Alfred polishing silvers. And sadly it took him only half day to feel ten years older.

He was on his way to Hall Entrance to scowl at the avoiding work hall boys, when he spotted the last person he wants to see that day. _Mr. Coleman._ An over-weighted man with a dark hair reaching his shoulders was standing with his back to under butler, and was jauntily chatting with Anna. Thomas felt how the blood in his veins boiled and jaw automatically clenched. Not only the man was late, but also wasn't working at all! Unless he got a task from Mr. Carson to bother all maids in residence to keep them away from working, though it was the same likely as Carson decides to give them a day off, today.

'Ah, there you are, Thomas.' The under butler stopped on his track and reluctantly turned around to face Mrs. Hughes.

'Something not right, Mrs. Hughes?' He asked politely, though he was far away from being nice and calm, and was ready to bite anyone's head off whenever asks him for help.

'I was trying to find Mr. Carson to tell him the news about James, but if I already spotted you, I can as well tell you.' Thomas face immediately softened as he thought about young footman.

'I hope it's nothing serious.'

'I'm afraid it isn't as good as we wished for.' Mrs. Hughes sighed worried. 'Doctor Clarkson said his metatarsal is broken and James isn't able to work for the next few days, if not longer.' Thomas ran hand over his face.

'That's the last thing we need to hear, Mrs. Hughes.' He growled, couldn't believe his luck.

'I know, Thomas, and I wish I could bring better news.' She offered him gently smile. 'But I'm sure we manage to prepare everything on time, for Lord Brasher arrive.'

'When Mr. Carson hears the news, he'd get a fit.' The under butler muttered, hoping he wouldn't be the one to bring the bad news.

'It's very unfortunate that accident happened at the same day when Lord Brasher is going to visit us, but we can't do nothing about that. I'm sure Mr. Carson would understand.'

'And I'm sure I'd be the one to be blamed.' He said with a wry smile, having even greater desire to smoke.

'I don't see any reasons why Mr. Carson would blame you for that. Alfred and James were carrying a piano, when unfortunately it fall down on James foot.' He arched an eyebrow at her. 'Thankfully Lord Brasher insisted to take footman with himself, so if we play it right, he could replace James.'

'At least one good news, though I already have some reservation about his work.' Her face told she would like to know more about his _reservation _about Patrick Coleman, but she hadn't ask, deciding to drop it for now. Though if there would be any problems on the line between Thomas and Patrick, she'll be the first to learn about their dislikes to each other.

'So, he finally arrived? I heard from Mrs. Patmore he was late.'

'Indeed he was.' Thomas absently nodded his head, while his eyes darted around in search for a new footman. Unfortunately there wasn't any signs of him, anymore. Thomas swore in mind, hoping Mr. Carson wouldn't spot him as the first and learns that he hadn't told him about his duties, yet.

'Well, I see you're very busy.' Small smile appeared on her face. 'I won't keep you longer, Thomas.'

'We all have what do to, haven't we, Mrs. Hughes?' He managed to give her the nicest smile his tensed muscles of the face were able to form and walked toward the servant's hall. He was ready to find the missing footman and calm his nerves with one of the cigarettes he was already gripping in the hand.

* * *

Mr. Carson didn't know how to keep a poker face. Every emotions he felt was passing over his face, each muscle and wrinkle moved under the influence of his mood, betraying what was going on inside his head. It was easy to read Mr. Carson and was easy to know what kind of reaction you could expect from the old man when you approach him. Maybe that's why Thomas kept hiding in the shadow, behind the pillars in Hall Entrance, as with a smirk on his face, he kept watching fidgeting on his feet butler. He was all tensed as he waited next to the door, knowing that in few minutes Lord Brasher and his family will arrive in Downton. Alfred stood as far away he could, looking like a kitten dragged out of the water, his unnatural long limbs dangled back and forth, before one, heavy look from Mr. Carson turned him into pile of salt.

'You're still there, Mr. Barrow?' He looked over his shoulder at smiling kindly to him Anna.

'Mr. Carson didn't give a sign to go outside, yet.' He replied warily. 'And you better not be in his bad books today. He is…' His eyes suddenly lit up as he spotted his loss nonchalantly walking out of the servant's hall. 'You!' He sneered as quiet as he could to not catch the butler's attention. 'Come over, here!' He demanded, the look of horror on the man's face just a little compensate for what Thomas has to gone through today.

'Did he do something?' Anna asked carefully, already feeling bad for the poor lad.

'I'm waiting for him since the morning. He was supposed to report to me so I could tell him about his duties. Since we're out of one footman, we were hoping Mr. Coleman would replace him.' Thomas snapped, his cold, blue eyes burned into the eyes of terrified man.

'I'm sure Mr. Coleman would help you, if he arrived on time.' Anna said after a moment of silence.

'And I'm sure Mr. Coleman can talk by himself.' Since Mr. Bates rescued him from the prison, he tried his best to be in good terms with him, as long like with Anna, but sometimes it was beyond his capabilities to be nice to her. She just loved to stick her nose to not her business and was always first to appease the situation, though she hadn't know what is all about, yet. Not to add she always takes the side of Thomas opponent, whenever he is right, or not.

'But, I'm Evans!' The lad said with squeaky voice. 'Not Coleman!' The under butler looked dumbfounded.

'Then who are you and what are you doing, in here?'

'I'm Matthew Evans, sir. I'm a new chauffer.' Thomas glanced at Anna, feeling completely lost.

'Mr. Carson forgot to inform us that Mr. Evans will start his work today. I believe he was so absorbed with Lord Brasher visit and Ball, he completely forgot about it.' Anna explained with a kind smile. 'I'm sure there had to be some misunderstanding.'

'Then, where on Heavens is Lord Brasher footman.' Thomas muttered, at the same time as Mr. Carson stopped behind his back.

'What's going on, in here?' He demanded like always, his eyes fixed at under butler, like he's the only responsible for the all chaos in Downton.

'I'm just trying to find the missing footman.' The younger man replied with forced smile. 'He was supposed to be after the breakfast, but somehow he hadn't show up, yet.'

'Well, maybe there was some misunderstandings, and the footman will just arrive along with Lord Brasher and his family.' Mr. Carson said with lost face. 'I'm sure we find the answer very soon.'

'Very well, Mr. Carson.' Thomas said unconvinced.

'But I do not understand why you hadn't told me earlier about this, Thomas.' He suddenly said, his brows frowned. 'I should be informed straight away that the footman is missing.'

'I was…'

'Maybe we're chatting here, while the poor lad is walking lost around Downton!' Thomas and Anna looked at him dumbfounded.

'I really doubt, Mr. Carson, that new footman is just walking over the mansion without being spotted by anyone from the staff or family.' Thomas said slowly, trying to be patient. 'He just hadn't arrived, yet.'

'Are you sure about this?' The butler looked at him heavily. 'The new maids might think he's the part of the staff and didn't think about report to anyone about him. The mansion is very spacious…'

'Mr. Carson we're seeing each other at least three times a day, and I can provide you, maids exactly know who is working in here, and who's not.'

'I think Mr. Barrow is right.' Anna suddenly stated. 'I'm sure someone will notice him.' Mr. Carson didn't look completely convinced, but sudden yell coming out from the mouth of one of hall boys about arriving cars, forced him to change his mind.

'Everyone go outside and please, do not disappoint your Lordship. And we…' He glanced at Thomas. 'Will finish this later.'

'Of course, Mr. Carson.' Thomas murmured and followed Alfred and Mr. Bates outside. They barely stood in a row, when the cars parked outside the mansion and Lord Brasher jauntily jumped out of the motor.

'I thought I'd never be able to see Downton Abbey, again!' The Lord beamed and ran up the stairs to hug Lord Grantham.

'It is so nice to see you back, my friend.' Thomas watched the pair for a moment, before moved his eyes back toward the motor, where just behind Lady Brasher and her daughter, were standing their servants. A young maid with hair black as raven and fastened into bum looked terrified. _Probably it's her first time outside the Brasher mansion_, Thomas thought, and looked over the old, very skinny man with a face reminding him of vulture. It made him shiver.

'Why don't we go inside?' Lady Grantham finally offered with a kind smile, motioning her arm toward the door. 'You have to be very tired after such a long travel.'

'Alfred and Mr. Barrow help with the luggage, please.' Mr. Carson ordered, and both men immediately approached the cars. With the corner of his eye he noticed a very young man with neatly arranged black hair, whose eyes were fixed at Thomas. He turned his head a bit and looked closer at gently smiling at him man. His alabaster skin and delicate features draw the attention of most of men standing outside the Downton. His red, plump lips looked so kissable, it'd be hard to resist.

He was disappointed when Milady wrapped her arm over the boy and he didn't has a choice like follow her inside. Thomas was still so absorbed, that he barely felt that there was something hard on his way. Until he felt a pair of hands grabbing for his forearms. Startled he snapped his head back and looked agape at the young man standing just a few inches from him.

'I'm so sorry.' Thomas stuttered, while the man in response dazzled him with his perfect smile, dark eyes watched with playful sparks in them.

'It was my fault, really.' The man said in a rich, melodic voice. 'I saw you coming down this way, so I should be the one to give you a space. But I was concerned you would land with your face in the mud, if you hadn't noticed on time it's almost the end of stairs, I had to do something about that.' The under butler knew he was already blushing. His cheeks were burning with fire.

'Thank you for your kindness, sir.' He bowed slightly, noticing a look of surprise passing across the other man's face, before he gave him another beautiful smile.

'Just be careful next time.' He said softly and brushed off a few strands of short, dark hairs which didn't hide under the cap he was wearing. 'You might not be so lucky.'

'I will, sir.' Thomas felt how involuntarily he smiled shyly back to him, and though the man already followed the rest of family, he just couldn't stop grinning.

'Everything's alright, Mr. Barrow?' Alfred asked confused as he noticed the change in older man's appearance.

'Why wouldn't be?' He simply said back with unfading smile and helped footman with the heavy chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**_I apologize for any errors I've made, but English isn't my first language, and though I'm trying my best to avoid them, I know that I've might missed something. _**

She looked like a bird.

Colorful bands of silk whirled around her fragile silhouette as she kept dancing wildly in the middle of Entrance Hall, her melodic laugh echoed within the cold walls. She threw her head back and wrapped arms tighter around her handsome partner, who tried to steady her before they both fall down on the floor. They were so preoccupied with each other, they weren't even aware of an audience they have.

Thomas was on his way to the Library, when he heard a playful giggles coming out from the Entrance Hall. He was sure that all family and their guests were already seated down and waited for tea, but another melodic laugh proved he had to be wrong.

'Have you heard that, Mr. Barrow?' Alfred suddenly asked him, his eyes staring at the direction of Hall.

'Heard what?' Thomas asked uninterested, playing dumb, and lazily turned around to look at lad.

'A laugh.' The footman continued quietly with flushed cheeks. 'I thought everyone are in the Library.'

'And they are.' The under butler said with a shrug, before his face broke into smirk, as the sudden thought formed in his head. 'Maybe it's a ghost.'

'Ghost?' Alfred repeated with frown.

'Yes, ghost. I'm sure Mrs. O'Brien had to mention it to you.' His face was a blank mask, not telling anything back.

'You're making a fool of me, aren't you, Mr. Barrow?' The lad snorted angrily, though Thomas already noticed the flash of curious in his eyes. 'There's no ghosts in Downton. I've never seen a one, and no one's here mentioned anything about it, either.'

'Well, it isn't like you can freely speak about ghosts, is it?' The under butler shrugged. 'Especially in the presence of Mr. Carson.' _As if any ghost would pass along the butler's first examination_, _if they're worthy to walk around Downton_. His smirk grew, as he recalled something. 'You can always ask Daisy about that, if you still don't believe me. She was taking a part in our spiritual séance, when the ghost spoke up to her.' He added in confident whisper, knowing he'd catch the bait. Everyone knew there was no one so trustful and innocent like her, and whatever she said, it must be truth. Just like he hoped, Alfred considered it for moment, his cheeks paled.

'But why exactly the ghost would speak to Daisy?' _Because she's able to believe in everything you said to her, _Thomas thought.

'Maybe because it is a ghost of William?' He suggested with raised eyebrow, but Alfred only was staring back at him, dumfounded, looking even more stupid than he always was. 'He was a footman once, here in Downton. And also Daisy's husband. I'm sure you heard about him.' He explained patiently and the realization finally hit Alfred, his eyes grew up in surprise.

'Oh, and you think, he's still there, Mr. Barrow?' He tried to keep his voice steady, but Thomas already noticed it was shaking along with his hands. The under butler only hoped he won't dropped the teapot, before he reaches the Library.

'We all know he is still there…He has always been very responsible for his work, and I wouldn't be surprised, if he still tries to do it. He just loves to have everything under control. He had to be really annoyed with you and James making such a mess around the house.' The lie very easily slipped from his lips.

'That's why I heard him?' He was white like a wall behind him.

'Do you really need to ask?' When another laugh echoed within walls, Thomas shooed Alfred to the Library, while he decided to check the source of the noise. He stayed in the shadow, while his eyes inspect the scene in front of him. He didn't has doubts that the dancing lady was no one else, but Milady Brasher, though he couldn't tell who was her partner. He tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but he was moving too quickly and stay far away from the light, to give Thomas a chance to identify him.

Almost on tiptoes he walked over the nearest pillar and kept them watching, a small smirk formed on his lips. They were so absorbed with a dance, they seemed to completely forgot where are they and that everyone are already waiting for them in Library. Thomas wondered if he should interrupt them, when his ears caught the sound of upcoming steps. He withdraw back and curious waited how the situation will unfold.

'Charlotte!' A laugh died on Milady Brasher parted lips, her dark eyes focused at the small, corpulent figure of her father standing at the top of the stairs. His face was red of anger and embarrassment, fingers curled into fists.

'Oh, papa, we're just dancing!' She exclaimed with unfading smile, the black cascade of hair fall softly on her arms.

'Now there's no place and time for this!' He yelled outraged and glared warily at the man with arms still wrapped around his daughter. 'Would you mind, Patrick?!' She rolled her eyes and unhappily pulled back from her partner. The man bowed with grace, the ends of his ears turned pink, while Thomas ears perked up with interest. Was it possible, that the man who just danced with Milady, was the missing footman, Patrick Coleman? But he hadn't even look like Coleman. His silhouette was quite slim, he was tall and was moving with such a grace the cat could envy him. He couldn't be a servant, yet surely not that young Coleman he had known. 'Would you join your family in the Library, or you rather make a fool of me?'

'We didn't do nothing wrong, Papa.' She disagreed, her eyebrows furrowed.

'That's enough, Charlotte! I have enough your silliness as for one day!' Her jaw clenched and eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't dare to say nothing more. 'And you…' He turned toward the man, at the same time as he noticed a dark figure passing by the pillars. 'Mr. Bagwell, is that you?' Lord Brasher called out.

'No, my Lord.' Thomas swore in mind and reluctantly walked out into the middle of the Hall Entrance and bowed slightly. He blushed under steady gaze of Lord Brasher and feel even more unsure, when Milady turned around to take a look at him.

'Oh, it's…'

'Barrow, sir.' Thomas offered with a small smile.

'Ah, the under butler.' Lord Brasher nodded his head. 'I believe Milady just lost her way to Library.' The woman huffed and folded her arms, looking like petulant child.

'With pleasure, I'll lead Milady to Library.'

'And I would like to have a word with you, Patrick, before we go upstairs.' Thomas eyes glued to the back of mysterious man, who didn't even bother to look at him.

'Right, here?' The other man asked quietly, surprised.

'If I can suggest, the Saloon is empty, sir.' Thomas offered quickly as he patiently waited for Milady to follow him.

'Very good, Barrow.' Lord Brasher nodded with a smile. 'After you, Patrick.' They barely made a few steps, when another voice rang in the Hall.

'Everyone's already in the Library, Sir. They're only waiting for you and Milady.' Thomas looked up at the stairs once again, where was already standing the good-looking boy he has seen earlier. In a black clothes and with very pale face looking like a mask, he easily could be taken for a ghost, and for a short moment the under butler regret he hadn't bring Alfred with himself.

'Oh, yes, the tea.' Lord Brasher muttered, his face softened. 'We will follow you, Bagwell. And we finish this later, Patrick. After tea.'

'Milady?' Mr. Bagwell asked with a pitching voice, his stone face hadn't show any emotions, as he patiently waited at the top of stairs.

'Yes, yes, I'm coming.' Milady said almost with growl and slowly began climbing up, Lord Brasher shortly after her.

'Ah, that was a close one.' The mysterious man said with a smile and finally turned around, so Thomas could see his face. 'Mr. Bagwell just saved my skin.' His eyes lit up even more when he got a closer look at the under butler, and he recognized him. 'It's you!' He beamed, surprised. 'The man from the stairs.' Thomas smiled slightly, couldn't believe his own eyes, either.

'And you're perhaps the missing footman, I was looking for all day?' The other man's cheeks immediately turned pink.

'I'm so sorry, Lord Brasher changed his mind in the last minute. We didn't even have a chance to contact with Mr. Carson and warn him about the change of plans.' Thomas prepared himself for that confrontation all day. He was sure nothing would manage to stop him from saying loud what exactly he thinks about latecomers servants, but when they finally stood face to face, he just couldn't be angry at Patrick anymore. There was something about his smile. He believed it easily could melt the ice, let alone the heart, even if it was hard as stone and belonged to the most hateful person in Downton.

'There's no reason to apologize…We were just worrying that something might happened to you.' Though few minutes earlier he was ready to bite his head off without the blink of an eye.

'In that case I should apologize for worry you. It wasn't my intention.' Thomas couldn't take his eyes off him; A dim light danced over his high cheekbones and almost perfect skin, sharp teeth chewed on his already slick low lip, while his hazel eyes were intently watching the under butler back. He was pretty, yet there was something wild in him- maybe it was because of his fluffy, uncombed hair and that unusual dark patch of hair on his chin, or how his alerted eyes were inspecting carefully everything around himself, reminding the under butler of a wildcat. _Patrick Coleman grew up to be a very interesting creature, _Thomas thought, already forgetting about the chubby boy with dirty face he'd think about for the last two days.

'Mr. Carson has to see you.' He muttered with his eyes casted down, small blush creep out into his cheeks.

'I can't meet with Mr. Carson, until I have a talk with Lord Brasher. I believe he wouldn't like to search for me after tea.' He smiled softly and nodded at the stairs. 'I better be going. But I'll see you later, Mr. Barrow?' There was that hint of hope in the man's voice, which made Thomas smile and his heart jumped a bit. It was a nice feeling; he hadn't remember when someone seemed to be so eager to see him again, at all meet with him.

'If you're supposed to work as a footman in Downton, it's very likely.' Patrick nodded slightly his head and with one last look at the other man, he swaggered toward the stairs. Thomas watched him go with a little thought forming in his head; he just wished he could see Mr. Carson's face, when he finally meets famous Mr. Coleman.

* * *

Alfred and Thomas were doubling and tripling to satisfy Mr. Carson, but the man seemed to be less and less pleased with their every effort. If not the spoon was at a good distance from the dessert plate, then there was something else that butler will notice, and demand immediate improvement. Even Bates – Carson's favorite pupil – did have a lot of problems to impress the man tonight, and looked like he was close to throw everything in the air and limped back to the cottage.

'Whatever I do, in Mr. Carson's eyes, it's always done wrong.' Alfred sulked, using the occasion when butler was out of the kitchen, to torment someone else.

'I'm sure Mr. Carson doesn't think like that.' Mrs. Hughes said with a soothing smile, although it wasn't a secret how much the butler dislikes a footman. Everyone knew that very well, and though Alfred wasn't the sharpest tool in the drawer, he wasn't completely blind, either.

'And I think he does.' The footman scowled. 'Even if James has done something wrong, it was me first to blame.'

'At least now, it's not only me being responsible for all the evil in Downton.' Mr. Barrow chimed in with a smirk, and even at Bates tired face appear a small smile.

'But didn't Mr. Carson help you around, when you asked him for advice?' Mrs. Hughes recalled gently, deciding to change the tactic.

'It doesn't mean anything, Mrs. Hughes. Sometimes James is asking Mr. Carson for help too, and yet, he's threatening him much better than me.'

'I'm sure it is only because of Lord Grantham's old friend's visit, and soon everything will be back to norm.'

'Like it was better a week ago.' Alfred muttered unhappily and lifted up his silver tray. 'I just hope Mr. Carson will focus on the new footman now, and let me take a breath.'

'You haven't seen him yet, and you're already wishing him the worst?' Mr. Barrow asked mockingly. 'Now, you can tell you have to share the same family with Mrs. O'Brien.'

'Mr. Barrow, please, take care of your work.' Mrs. Hughes said in a warning tone as she noticed Alfred cheeks turned pink. 'We all better do it, before Mr. Carson says he's the only one who's working hard and we're doing everything to ruin the honor of Downton.' She added quieter and marched away.

'I thought we've already done it, when I placed napkin one inch further than it should be.' Mr. Barrow added with another smirk.

'No, it was still more like prelude to proper sabotage.' Bates said and for the first time in a long time, John and Thomas were laughing together like two good friends.

'I see you have a good time.' They gasped startled when Mr. Carson's authoritative voice rang behind their backs. 'Alfred, you've already took a sauceboat upstairs, haven't you?'

'Almost, Mr. Carson.' Alfred stuttered and almost ran away from the kitchen under butler's heavy stare.

'And how about you, Mr. Bates and Mr. Barrow?'

'As Alfred said, we're almost done.' Thomas replied and stood face to face with older man, without problems withstanding his intensive stare.

'Good. I'd like to see you in the Dining Room in few minutes.' Mr. Carson said sharply and with last look at under butler, he again left the kitchen. His eyebrows frowned when he spotted unfamiliar figure standing in the end of corridor, helplessly looking around the walls. 'Can I help you, sir?' He boomed and quickly approached startled lad.

'I'm searching for Mr. Carson.' The man replied with unsure look.

'It's me, sir. How can I help you?'

'I'm Patrick Coleman. A new footman. Mr. Barrow suggested I should find you…' Mr. Carson blinked few times, not quite believed his own eyes.

'New footman?' He finally repeated, dumbfounded.

'Yes, new footman. I thought Lord Brasher informed Lord Grantham I was supposed to arrive today with other servants? I'm even supposed to replace one of your footman, until he'll be able to work again.' The man didn't look even less confused than butler.

'Yes, I know that, but I was expecting someone…' He watched Patrick carefully, not sure how to explain his doubts.

'Someone like?' Patrick encouraged with unsure smile.

'Someone who will look like a footman.' Mr. Carson finally said. 'I do not mean to offend you, Mr. Coleman, but Downton has its reputation, and His Lordship expects his servants to keep the standards of the house.' Patrick watched him clearly puzzled. 'Your appearance is beyond the standards, Mr. Coleman, and that's what is worrying me the most.' He hoped that he expressed himself clearly this time.

'Is it about my clothes, Mr. Carson? I know they weren't made in France, but they're clean and I'm not wearing them during my work. Besides I know I'd get a livery, so…'

'I was more concerned about other parts of your appearance, Mr. Coleman. It is clear that as a footman you're going to wear livery just like other footmen in this house.' Mr. Carson replied annoyed, and motioned at the man's head. 'You should keep your hair neatly. That spiky bands over your eyes and ears have to disappear, and if you have a problem with having them in place, use pomade. They can't look like a bird's nest. And that…' He pointed at his own chin.

'Goatee, Mr. Carson.' Patrick offered with a smug smile.

'Yes, that _thing_ also, has to disappear, Mr. Coleman. You face is supposed to be clean-shaved.'

'And that's all, Mr. Carson?' He raised eyebrow questioningly, small smirk played across his lips.

'For now it is.'

'Well, in that case I believe we're able to reach some kind of compromise.' Patrick stated and clapped his hands together.

'Compromise?' Mr. Carson boomed, wondering if the footman really understood what he has said to him. 'You're _obligated_ to improve your appearance, if you want to work as a footman.'

'I'm already working as a footman, Mr. Carson, and if I remember good I'm suppose to help you, only because of Lord Brasher's good will. And it's Downton which needs me, not the other way.' Patrick smiled sweetly, enjoying the look of utter shock on butler's face. 'You're out of one footman and I offer I can replace him, but if you don't wish me to do it and be anywhere close to Lord Grantham, I'll happily just stay round my Lordship.'

'Mr. Coleman, your impertinence…'

'Mr. Carson, we're ready.' They both turned around to look at Mr. Barrow standing few feet away from Mr. Carson, self-satisfied smirk adorned his face. The butler darted his eyes from one man to another.

'As it is already late, Mr. Barrow will introduce you to your tasks tomorrow morning, Mr. Coleman.' Mr. Carson announced in official tone, though the way he was watching the younger man, you could tell he would be more obligated to show him the back door and make sure he'd never comes back.

'Of course, Mr. Carson.' Patrick nodded his head with unfading smile.

'Mr. Barrow do you have any objections?' The butler asked, although they way he had asked, suggested the answer could be the only one.

'No, Mr. Carson. I'll make sure Mr. Coleman knows his duties just after breakfast.'

'In that case, Mr. Coleman, you have a day off, today.' The butler said reluctantly. 'Now, I have other things to take care of. Mr. Barrow?'

'I'm right behind you, Mr. Carson.' Thomas replied with a gleam in his eye as he reciprocate a smile with Patrick, and shortly followed the older man.

* * *

'Aren't you suppose to work?' Patrick jumped startled as the familiar, gently voice rang behind his back. He turned on the heel and dissatisfied faced another servant.

'Ah, Mr. Bagwell.' He drawled, his lips stretched in a nasty smirk, as the face of other lad turned into grimace. 'Shouldn't I ask the same you?'

'His Lordship is taking a bath and doesn't need my presence.' He replied shortly, his dark eyes eyeing intently the footman. 'But you hadn't answer me, yet. What are you doing upstairs, swaggering across the halls like a loon?'

'I have a day for myself, though I really don't know how to enjoy it. I don't have nothing to do, and even don't have anyone to hang out with.' He finally replied and moved closer to Mr. Bagwell. 'And I already got into Mr. Carson's bad books.'

'Already?' He repeated in disbelief. 'You amazed me more with each passing day.' He shook his head with a chuckle. 'Isn't he a butler? You realize, you couldn't find worse person to be on the war track with?'

'I realized too late.' Patrick muttered with sheepishly smile. 'But at least Mr. Barrow is on my side.'

'That handsome under butler you've bumped into? Better be careful, Patrick, from what I overheard, he and Mr. Carson's aren't on the good terms, either.' He warned in confidential whisper. 'Your friendship with Mr. Barrow might harm your reputation.'

'Like I've already started on the good foot with Mr. Carson.' Patrick's voice dripped with sarcasm. 'Have you heard anything else?'

'Not yet, but it's only matter of time, before I learn something new.' He said with a smirk and quickly snatched his hand back, when Patrick ran his fingers over it with a smug smile. 'Don't!' He warned, his eyes darted around in panic, to make sure no one's saw them.

'I'll meet you later, right?' Patrick asked in whisper, lips formed into small, gently smile.

'We all meet for dinner, if it is what you're suggesting.' He said sharply and nodded at the door behind his back. 'His Lordship will search for me. I need to go.'

'I don't stop you.' He raised hands up with a smirk. 'You're standing there on your own will.' Mr. Bagwell opened his mouth to say something back, when the second door behind him, opened violently and Milady Brasher rushed out from the room.

'I thought so, I heard you, Patrick!' She cooed, her face lit up with a wide smile.

'Milady.' Patrick bowed with a charming smile, while Mr. Bagwell huffed under the nose and barely stopped his lips to turn into grimace. 'Is there anything I can do for you?'

'The lamp in my bedroom suddenly stopped working. I thought you could take a look on it?' She fluttered her eyelashes on him.

'You should asked one of the maids or Mr. Carson for help, Milady. My only knowledge about electricity is how to switch on the lamp.'

'Ah, I don't think they could repair it as good as you.'

'I'm sure, milady, they're capable of repair the lamp in your bedroom.' Mr. Bagwell said in confident voice. 'They had electricity much earlier, before Patrick 's arrive.' He added sarcastically, but milady seemed to not heard his small remark, as she was completely absorbed with a footman.

'I'd be much calmer if you take a look on it, Patrick.' Milady insisted and took the man by the arm. 'Charles, please find Marie and tell I need her.'

'But Lord…'

'My father doesn't need his valet to stay with him all the time.' She stated and pulled Patrick forward. 'Find Marie.'

'Of course, milady.' Mr. Bagwell bowed, and though his face was a neutral mask, his eyes were already darker because of anger and annoyance he was feeling right there. He turned on his heel and obediently walked down the stairs, in his ears still lingered milady's irritating laugh. He was already counting days to their return to home.

* * *

'As I believe, everyone already knew, that Mr. Coleman will be replacing James, until his leg heals enough, so he could go back to work.' Mr. Carson announced and reluctantly glanced at the smiling at other servants footman. 'Also, I'd like to announce that during Lord Brasher's and his family stay, their servants will eat with us.'

'For how long they're going to stay in?' Mrs. Patmore asked almost in scowl, didn't like the fact she'd has to feed another few mouths. Mr. Carson looked at her warily.

'For a week.' Patrick replied, his eyes scanned the table in search for the best place to sit. 'Unless His Lordship will feel so good in Downton, he wouldn't like to leave it so soon.' He chose a place between Anna and Charles, deciding it was probably the wisest choice. Mrs. Bates seemed to be nice enough to make a small talk with her and Charles wasn't the lady for whose favor would have to fight with other male servants and deal with their jealousy to the end of his stay in Downton. Small smirk splayed over his face, as he felt how valet's body tensed next to him.

'You really can't stay away from him.' Mr. Bagwell suddenly muttered on his right. Patrick glanced at him confused, his eyebrows drew near.

'What do you mean?' He whispered, but he found the answer, before the valet says anything. The burning gaze from the opposite seat he was feeling on himself since he had had sat down, was belonging to no one else, but Mr. Barrow. The usual pale cheeks were colored with pink, his thin lips stretched into almost shy smile. He couldn't help, but think how cute he looked.

'Should I already feel abandoned?' Charles added in mocking tone. Patrick's head already snapped into his direction with worried expression.

'Have you lost your mind?' He asked harshly, this time much louder than he intended to, so they catch the attention of all servants.

'Mr. Coleman, we do not talk during the meals.' Mr. Carson informed with hard face.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. It won't happen again.' Patrick replied with eyes cast down on the plate.

'With such a progress you make, you won't help yourself.' Charles muttered again, but the footman decided to stay quiet this time, and stabbed the chicken's leg with a fork.

'James wouldn't eat anything tonight?' Daisy asked worried, when she stormed into servant's hall.

'He shouldn't leave his bed for few days to not overload his foot.' Mrs. Hughes replied and smiled in a friendly manner at new footman.

'Ivy or Caroline will carry the diner to his room, after we finish.' Mr. Carson added.

'I can take a dinner for Jimmy. I was going to see him, anyway.' Thomas offered quickly and everyone got quiet. Patrick and Charles looked curious around the table, while the others focused their eyes at Mr. Carson.

'In that case Mr. Barrow will carry the meal for James.' The butler finally decided after Thomas bravely withdraw his hard stare. 'Now, please, go back to your meals. Mrs. Patmore had to work very hard for all day to prepare them for us.' The under butler only smirked and winked at watching him with growing interest Charles. In return the lad's eyes turned cold, his upper lip twitched minimally. The reaction surprised Thomas, and he instantly darted his eyes at Patrick, but the other man was busy playing with his dinner to notice anything.

'I believe, Mr. Barrow, you'll have a better look at Mr. Coleman, than you had at James and Alfred.' Mr. Carson said without looking at under butler. 'I do not think His Lordship would like to open convalescent hospital in Downton, once again.' Thomas exchanged a look with Mrs. Hughes. 'Am I clear, Mr. Barrow?'

'Crystal, Mr. Carson.' The under butler muttered and pushed his plate aside. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

* * *

Thomas balanced a tray on the health hand and gently knocked on the door's of James bedroom. After quiet _come in_, he slipped inside the room and spotted James sitting on the bed and reading one of the books he'd borrow him earlier.

'Oh, it's you.' Jimmy didn't hide his disappointment, when Thomas put a tray on the bedside table and pulled up the chair.

'I'm glad you're happy to see me.' The under butler muttered back with gloomy face.

'It's not like that!' Jimmy protested and reached out for his dinner. 'I'm glad you came around to see me, but….' He trailed off, his cheekbones colored in red.

'But you'd prefer Caroline instead of me.' Thomas finished for him, a small pang of jealous hit his heart. 'I'll remember to ask her tomorrow to carry a breakfast for you.'

'No, it's fine.' He sighed heavily and fixed his eyes at older man. 'With you I can talk and play cards, while with Caroline... Well, let's say I'd just quickly get bored again.'

'So, you're saying you like me around because I'm a good entertainment for you?' He didn't know if he should feel flattered that Jimmy chose him over Caroline, or be annoyed that he wants to see him only because of his own selfish reasons. The young footman's face immediately hardened as he got suspicious about Thomas choice of words, and watched him with narrowed eyes.

'What you meant by saying you're a good entertainment?' He asked briskly, his eyebrows drew near.

'Do you really have to take whatever I say to you as a sexual harassment?' Thomas snapped, losing the rest of his patience with him. 'I bring a dinner for you, because you're my friend and you're in need, but I hadn't come in to be insulted. I've never made any move at you since that night, yet, you're threatening me like I wasn't thinking about anything else, but how to get into your pants!' He hissed, being sick of Jimmy's constant accusations. Didn't he trust him even a bit?

'I didn't mean to upset you! You know, that I'm always saying something without thinking.' He apologized sincerely, when Thomas almost jumped off the chair. 'I do want to be your friend, no matter, what's happened earlier.' He was ready to beg him to stay, his eyes with pleading staring back at older man, who just in return kept staring at him with unreadable face. 'Please?'

'Apologize accepted.' The under butler muttered after a pause and returned to the chair.

'Maybe we just change the subject.' Jimmy suggested with nervous smile and pushed a tray aside. 'So, tell me, what do you think about the new footman?' He asked, when Thomas nodded his head in agreement.

'He seemed to be nice. I hadn't seen him working, yet, so I can't tell, if he's better than you or not.' He replied evasively, couldn't help himself from wind up Jimmy a bit.

'You don't have to see him work, to know he won't be any better than me.' James sulked, just like Thomas predicted. There was any better way to annoy the footman, than point out that he's not Mr. Perfect in everything. 'And don't tell me it's everything you're able to say about him.' He continued in scowl. 'At least tell me if he's handsome.'

'Why?' Thomas asked alarmed, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, ready to attack back.

'I'd rather not have to fight with him over Caroline's feelings.' He muttered and Thomas face softened. 'So is he?'

'He's good-looking, but I hadn't noticed Caroline drooling over him, yet.' He smirked. 'Anyway, soon you'd be back on your feet, so there's no need to worry.'

'What else do you know about him? And don't tell me you hadn't notice anything.' So, Thomas told him about what happened in Entrance Hall, and how he handled Mr. Carson.

'Do you think they're just like Lady Sybil and Branson?' Jimmy inquired, when the under butler finished talk. 'Mr. Carson will get heart attack when he sees them together.'

'I don't know. Maybe they are, or maybe that's the part of Patrick's duty, to entertain milady.' He shrugged off, not sure what to think about their unusual bond, yet.

'Oh, so you're already using his Christian name?' The footman noted with a wry smile. 'It sounds like you might know him a little bit better than you intend to tell me, you liar.'

'I told you I saw him only twice while he was a kid, and he doesn't even remember me.' Thomas replied slowly, hoping he'd finally stop torment him. 'Today, I shared with him only few words.'

'And yet, you're calling him Patrick, and he's calling you Thomas in return, isn't he? So, you rather know about him more than you're saying, or you already take a shine on him.' The older man's eyes narrowed, jaw clenched with anger, but before he could muster any response, Mr. Carson's voice resounded in the servants quarters along with steps of other servants coming upstairs to their bedroom.

'I need to go.' Thomas felt relief and with pleasure pushed the chair away. 'I'll try to see you tomorrow.'

'And you do better thing about better answers.' Jimmy called after him. _Stubborn, little shit, _Thomas thought angrily and hardly stopped himself from slamming the door behind himself.

'Are you alright, Mr. Barrow?' He turned startled, when a warm voice spoke on his left. It was Patrick, his face wear a worried expression.

'Yes, why wouldn't I?' He asked back, his eyebrows drew near, as he wondered about what he was talking about. Did he hear his conversation with Jimmy?

'You hadn't eat your dinner, and you seemed to be angry with something.' He watched the new footman agape, surprised with his concern.

'So? What does it has anything to do with you?' Thomas snapped back with cold eyes, not get used to having attention, when he hadn't done anything wrong. He wasn't sure how to act, and if the man tried to be really nice, or was just searching for his blind-spot to use it later against him. Patrick was taken aback by his outburst and took a step back, but he quickly collected himself.

'I just thought you'd like to talk to someone or maybe need some help.' He explained, that charming smile dissolved from his face.

'And you thought I'd like to talk with a new footman?' He didn't intend to upset him, but he has just chosen the worst time he could to stick his nose into his business, and Thomas had to teach him where's his place.

'Sometimes it's easier to talk with someone we don't know.' He tried to get out from the oppression, his face was a mess of all emotions he was feeling.

'Sometimes it's wisely when you just mind your business!' Thomas bristled and gave him one of his venomous, snake-like, smiles. 'Fawning like a dog only works at Mr. Carson.' Patrick was in utter shock, his expression made him look like he just has been struck with something heavy.

'That wasn't my intention.' He stuttered, bewildered.

'Of course it wasn't.' His voice dripped with sarcasm, the coldness emanating from his eyes turned the blood in the footman's veins cold. 'Goodnight, Mr. Coleman.' Patrick said nothing, only, still in shock, walked away to his bedroom situated at the end of corridor. Thomas watched him go, until he felt someone's eyes at himself. He turned around only to see a black, small figure storming into its room, but he was quick enough to recognize it was Mr. Bagwell, wearing on his face the same look he had given Thomas during the supper. The under butler hadn't known what to think about him yet, except than finding him very handsome and quiet, but he knew he has to keep an eye at him. He'd better learns about his true intentions sooner, than being struck later from the unknown side.


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas was rummaging through the pile of clothes searching for the right size, while Patrick has decided to just stay behind his back and watched him in utter silence. Since last night, he hadn't speak a word to under butler and has been avoiding his look during the whole breakfast. Mr. Bagwell has seemed to be very pleasant with that turn of events- a smug smile on his cunning face hasn't been disappearing for most of the time- while, Mrs. Hughes has been very concerned with that sudden change in both men's behavior, and Thomas could be sure that sooner or later he'd be force to have a talk in her sitting room.

'That one should suits you.' Thomas said after few minutes and looked critically at chosen by himself livery. He wouldn't be surprised if it has be the one he'd have to worn while he has been a footman, as Patrick has a similar posture. 'If there'd be anything to improve, I'm sure one of the maids will do that for you.' He added and gingerly turned around to face the younger man and hand him a livery.

'It looks like my size.' Patrick replied after a look on the cloth, and to Thomas dismay, he simply began unbutton his shirt. The under butler took a deep breath, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in a small butlers room, with already half naked, handsome footman in front of him. Involuntarily he let his eyes slide over Patrick's firm chest and long, slender fingers tracing gently the black material of livery. He moistened his dry lips with a tongue, his breath hitched.

'Everything's alright, Mr. Barrow?' Startled, Thomas moved his eyes at the footman's face and realized that he was watching him intently. The under butler felt the panic raising in his chest, his hands slick of sweat. 'You look ill…' The lad continued with unsure voice, like he was testing a ground.

'It's nothing… Just very dusty in here.' Thomas muttered in response, not sure if it was a completely lie or not. There was no doubt he needed a fresh air. 'I thought you'd change in your bedroom.'

'Oh, I thought you'd like to see if it fits on me.' Patrick's cheeks turned pink, his hands frozen on the lapels.

'Well yes, but…ah, never mind.' He wanted to get over it as quick it was possible. 'Let me see it.' He said in demanding voice and almost get heart attack, when Patrick closed the already very small gap between them. Thomas instinctively raised his hands and laid them on the footman's shoulders, not quite sure if he wants to push the man away, or pull him closer. So far he let them rest there and feel the pleasant warmness emanating from the body hidden under the livery and sweatshirt.

'I know, the collar is a bit too tight.' Patrick said, truly believed that was the reason why the older men allow himself for such a closeness. Thomas immediately used the occasion and pulled gently at the white, rigid material, like indeed that was what he intended to do. He shivered and almost gasped when two fingers slipped inside and touched the warm, velvet skin of his neck. He could feel his pulse gently beating under his rough fingertips, and realized how much he has missed the feel of another man. 'I could ask Marie, Her Ladyship Brasher maid, to take care of it.' Patrick suggested, the pair of hazel eyes looking with interested at under butler concerned face.

'Good. Go and give it to her. You have to be ready for luncheon.' Thomas nodded absently and with a heavy heart withdraw his hands back. 'For now you can take care of His Lordship shoes.' He turned around, when the footman began undressing again.

'Of course, Mr. Barrow.' Patrick muttered behind his back. 'You don't have to turn around, Mr. Barrow. I'm not shy, and we're both men, so there's really nothing to hide and to be ashamed of.' Thomas turned his head slightly on the right. The panic returned. Did he know about him, did Jimmy or Alfred warned him about his _nature_? 'I only wanted to break up the tension, Mr. Barrow, I'm sorry, if I was too forward, I am…' He continued as he noticed change in under butler's behavior.

'No, it's fine, Patrick.' Thomas interrupted him and fully turned to him. 'I'd rather not want you to be seen by Mr. Carson, walking half naked down the servant quarters.' Though it'd be less harmful for Thomas, than being spot by the butler in a tiny room with almost naked, young footman. He was afraid, Mr. Carson might not be so understanding, again.

'Isn't it a bit too wide, Mr. Barrow?' Patrick asked concerned and turned around to show himself from every angle.

'Well, it should be more close to your body around the waist.' Thomas stated after a quick look at him and couldn't stop himself from rest his hands on the man's hipbones. 'Just like that.' He murmured in admiration. 'But I'm afraid we can't do too much about that, right now. We'd have to send it to tailor.'

'I don't think there's a hurry.' Patrick stated softly, but the older man was sure Mr. Carson would have a different point of view. The honor of Downton has to be saved. 'And I think a jacket it's more wide a bit higher.' Thomas watched him agape, when he unceremoniously grabbed gently for his hands and positioned them on his waist. 'There, Mr. Barrow. If we have to give it to tailor, let him know what exactly he's supposed to improve.' He couldn't bare that earnest, innocent smile on Patrick's face. Thomas was on the edge of his resistance and if the footman doesn't go in a minute, he'd just wrap arms around his waist and kissed him, just right there. He craved for closeness with another man, to feel loved and wanted again. His deep hidden feelings he'd has forgotten about for the past year, came back to life and Thomas knew he couldn't keep them away, anymore. 'Is there anything else, Mr. Barrow, or can I go downstairs?' Yes, there was something he craved to do, but definitely it wasn't anything what the footman would like.

'Yes, you can go.' He said almost in whisper and slowly pulled his hands back. Patrick smiled at him softly, not knowing what kind of havoc he has made in the under butler's mind.

'Thank you, Mr. Barrow.' Thomas didn't reciprocate that feeling, hadn't feel like he should thank him back for anything what he has done to him, today.

* * *

'How long he's going to stay in bed?' Alfred asked with annoyed face and reached out for another silver to polish.

'Why? You got too much duties to handle and feel a bit tired?' Thomas asked in a mocked tone and sat on the opposite chair to give the footman a hand.

'No, I just have enough of his whims!' He scowled. 'He's a one, big Drama Queen, that is our Jimmy.' Thomas smirked at him.

'So, what's have you done?' Alfred's head snapped up like a dog sensing a threat.

'Nothing! I only wanted to make a good deed, Mr. Barrow, that's all!' He said offended with accusation. 'If I know how he's going to thank me, I'd asked someone else to bring him a breakfast!' Thomas chuckled slightly.

'So, his humor hasn't improved since yesterday?' He asked, though he already knew the answer, and somehow he felt sorry for Alfred. The lad was only trying to be nice, and whenever he tried to do something good, it always bites him back.

'When he's bored, he's beyond endurance.' He muttered.

'That's for sure.' Thomas sighed. 'I make sure Caroline and Ivy would take care of his meals till he feels good enough to get back to work.' He promised, knowing it wouldn't take him longer to be ready to bite Jimmy's head off. If someone thought he's unbearable on his bad days, he or she should spend a day with annoyed first footman. If he wasn't sure he's a man, he'd think he has _these days_.

'Thank you, Mr. Barrow.' The flash of relief crossed Alfred's face, before with improved mood, he returned to his previous work. 'I don't think anyone else is going to handle him, and I thought it'd be very malicious from my side if I ask poor Patrick to cover for me. He didn't do nothing wrong to be punished that way.'

'Well, you did good, Alfred.' Thomas smiled softly. 'I'd rather not want Patrick to be around James. Especially when he's in mood like that.' It was enough he was afraid of his current position and would do anything to make a new footman feel unwelcome.

'He's nice, isn't he? In contrary to James, he doesn't make a fun of me or treats me like an idiot.'

'He's fine.' Thomas replied carefully.

'He's better than Mr. Bagwell, that's for sure. He barely talks and there's something cold emanating from him.'

'He might be nicer, but it doesn't change that he's still a footman, while Mr. Bagwell is His Lordship valet.' Alfred disagreed, but decided to keep it for himself, as a new footman came inside the servants hall.

'Have you cleaned all shoes, already?' Mr. Barrow asked in professional tone –the one he'd has learned from Mr. Carson- and fixed his hard stare at Patrick.

'Yes, I had, Mr. Barrow.' He nodded and stopped at the end of table, his eyes moved from one side to another. 'Mr. Carson said I'm supposed to help Alfred with silvers.'

'Then why don't you take a sit and give us a hand?' He asked with raised eyebrow, and after few steps Patrick hesitated, again. Thomas realized that he wasn't sure where he's allowed to sit– and after last night he couldn't blame him- so he decided to save him from his misery, and pulled a chair away from the table to give him a sign to sit on his left.

'That's very nice of Mr. Carson, he thought I'd need someone to help me.' Alfred said with a light voice, a small smile crossed his face. 'There's a lot of silvers to take care about.'

'Well, in truth, Mr. Carson just doesn't want me to be around family, until I do something with my presence.' The footman explained with a wry smile, and Thomas couldn't help but chuckle. 'Though we both know pretty well, I'd be needed to serve at table, today.'

'Now, it sounds more like Mr. Carson.' Alfred muttered sadly. Thomas looked up above the silver goblet he was holding, when Bates joined them in the room with gloomy face.

'His Lordship and Lord Brasher are going to hunt tomorrow.' He announced and sat heavily at Alfred's side.

'In that weather?' Alfred asked with pulled out face. 'It's constantly raining from two days, and it doesn't look like tomorrow is going to be better.'

'Lord Brasher isn't afraid of rain.' Patrick smirked. 'And he never leaves the opportunity to hunt.'

'What about Ladies?' Thomas asked, hoping they'd just stay in the house.

'Anna said they're going for picnic.' Bates sighed. 'We'd have to prepare the alcove, I'm afraid.'

'It sounds like a lot of extra work.' The under butler muttered. 'I prefer when they're staying in the house.'

'I believe everyone does.'

'And I just finished cleaning His Lordship shoes.' Patrick growled, ignoring amused look on Thomas face.

* * *

Mr. Carson didn't hide his indignation, when milady Brasher wrapped her arms around young Coleman and asked him to dance with her. His eyebrows drew closer, and he looked like he was ready to explode in a minute.

'It's unbelievable!' Mr. Carson said through the teeth to Thomas who just stood on his side with unreadable face. 'We're just before a luncheon, and our footman is dancing with milady!'

'Well, it isn't his fault, is it? He couldn't say no to milady, and when she asked if you don't mind, Mr. Carson, you didn't show your disapprove either.' He recalled and with pleasure watched how the man twitched. 'Patrick has already done everything he has to do, so you can say he has a free time.'

'Then he might spend that time on improve his looks.' Mr. Carson boomed.

'I really don't see anything wrong in Patrick's look, Mr. Carson. He's rather very handsome, young lad.' Thomas said without thinking and very quickly regret it, when he got a hard look from the butler.

'I hope it's only innocent observation, Mr. Barrow.'

'Of course, it is, Mr. Carson. I'm not jumping at every men who passes by me.' Again, the butler looked appalled, but didn't say a word, as he noticed Lord Brasher entering the Saloon.

'Heavens, Charlotte, leave that poor pup, alone!' Lord Brasher barked irate. 'Dance doesn't belong to his duties, I'm afraid. You can go, pup.' Mr. Carson was closed to heart attack when he has heard how Lord Brasher has called the footman, but when His Lordship joined them with a confused face, he almost fainted.

'Pup?' Lord Grantham asked, when Patrick rushed out of the room with bright red cheeks. The intensive stares coming from both butlers almost burned a hole in his back.

'A shortcut from puppy.' Lord Brasher explained with a short laugh, which quickly disappeared when he noticed the faces of butlers and his friend. 'Patrick was raised in our house and I know him since he was a baby. We treats him like a member of our family.' He explained with a sigh. 'He's very close to us.' Lord Grantham nodded his head with a small smile, though Thomas could tell he was far away from understanding that strange relationship between a footman and Lord Brasher's family.

'Still, why pup?' He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

'Well, for most of his childhood he was sharing a shelter with my greyhounds and was taking care of them, so we always kind of think about him as a puppy. There was a time, when he doesn't talk with anyone else than my dogs!' He laughed, amused.

'I think it's very rude of you, papa, to call Patrick a pup.' Charlotte disagreed. 'Let alone say uncle Robert in what conditions he has been living for all these years!'

'I couldn't let him live in servant's quarters, if he wasn't a one of them!' Lord Brasher barked, annoyed. 'I let him live with us, only because his mother, Anna, was a loyal and trustful servant, and when she died he didn't has a place to stay. He should be thankful for everything I've done for him.'

'He's enough thankful, papa.'

'Edith is sitting alone in the Library, I'm sure she'd like to have a company.' Lord Grantham suggested, as the tension between a father and daughter reached apogee. 'Carson, Thomas, you might go. I and Lord Brasher will be good on our own.'

'As you wish, my Lord.' The butler bowed and nodded at Thomas to follow him outside.

'You could help Edith with a new article, or maybe write a one by yourself.' Lord Brasher said calmer, when his daughter stayed at the place with a face like a thunder. 'You could dispose of the all energy you have for something more creative than arguing with me.'

'I'm doing this only for uncle Robert.' She snapped and stormed out of the room without second look at her father.

'I really don't know from who she inherited such a feisty character.' Lord Brasher shook his head with a long sigh and sat down on armchair. 'You thought your Mary's sharp tongue causes problems, you shall see Charlotte in action.'

'She's young, George.'

'If it was the only problem, Robert.' He muttered and ran a hand over his face.

'You mean Patrick?' Lord Grantham asked quietly with serious face and poured brandy to two glasses.

'Isn't it obvious?' He asked briskly. 'People are talking…' He trailed off with painful face.

'Is that why you decided to come to Downton?' He asked and has handed one glass to his friend, before he sat across Lord Brasher.

'Partly, yes. I was hoping that if she stays here with Mary and Edith she'd know how the things are supposed to look like, and she'd finish that silly relationship. I know we treat Patrick different than other servants, but there's still a line we'd never cross.'

'Are you sure about that?' Lord Grantham asked not convinced. 'If so far nothing changed, it's very unlikely she'd change her mind, now. Wouldn't it be easier if you just…'

'No.' He said firmly, surprising the other man. 'I made a promise, Robert.'

'I really don't know how to help you, George, if you're not telling me the whole truth. It's obvious you're not honest with me.'

'You don't know how hard it is for me to tell you the truth.' He muttered through the fingers, when he has hidden his face in hands.

'If I'm suppose to help you, you have to be honest with me. And you'd feel much better, when you dispose of that all weight from your shoulders.' Lord Grantham encouraged him, worried. 'I won't judge you.'

'But you should.' Lord Brasher said with a sigh and straightened up in his armchair. 'I even don't know from where to start.'

'From the beginning would be the best, my friend. From the beginning…'

* * *

Mr. Bagwell rushed by his side without looking at him, like he was invisible. He didn't stop even when Thomas has called after him, only hurried up to his room and closed himself in. He might be a Lord Brasher valet, but still the under butler should be respected by him, and he wouldn't tolerate such a behavior around himself.

'Lord Brasher gave Mr. Bagwell a hard day.' Patrick's soft voice rang behind his back.

'It isn't enough excuse for his disobedience.' Thomas said firmly and faced the footman. 'You can tell, Mr. Bagwell, I won't tolerate it.'

'I'm sure he'd apologize to you, tomorrow, Mr. Barrow.' He assured him with a small smile. 'He needs to get used that Downton is different than our house.'

'I'm sure it is, _pup_.' Patrick's cheeks turned pink and his head snapped like a dog sensing a treat. His first thought was that under butler was mocking him and somehow tried to intimate him, but when he noticed a teasing smile on his face and a gleam in an eye, he understood he didn't intend to humiliate him. He was rather trying to bury the hatchet. 'Well, I haven't asked you, yet, how are you feeling in Downton? I heard is more impressive than Lord Brasher house.' The footman began walking into direction of him room, with under butler still on his side.

'Indeed, it is bigger than ours.' Patrick flashed one of his famous smiles – the one which made Thomas heart beat quicker- and looked at him almost shyly. 'But I really enjoy my stay in here. Everyone are very nice to me and Mrs. Patmore's meals won't beat anything I've eaten so far. Our cook is terrible, I'm surprised she hadn't poison anyone, yet.' He added in confident whisper and opened the door of his bedroom. His eyebrows raised up in surprise as on the bedside table he noticed the items he surely hasn't take with himself. 'Well, it looks like Mr. Carson just left a small hint for me.' He chuckled slightly, finding the whole situation amusing. He opened the door wider, when Thomas looked at him questioningly, and nodded toward his bed. 'Next to my bed, Mr. Barrow.' He added with a sly smile, when he noticed the under butler's normally pale cheeks turned pink, and his eyes almost popped out of its sockets.

'Oh, yes.' He stuttered, feeling completely stupid. If he doesn't start to control himself, Patrick wouldn't have to talk with anyone to figure out his sexuality. He swallowed a formed in his throat knob and steadied his gaze at the bedside table where was put a simple white towel with a razor and jar of pomade at the centre. 'Yes, indeed Mr. Carson told me he feared your appearance is beyond the standard of the house.' He muttered with a smirk, couldn't believe that the butler could be so stubborn, he'd has entered Patrick's room without his consent, although he'd never has done anything like that, since Thomas remembered. 'Though I hadn't thought it bothered him so badly.'

'Well, it looks like Mr. Carson expects to see me tomorrow, the way he wishes to.' Patrick smiled slightly. 'He might be a bit surprised, then.'

'I don't support Mr. Carson in this, but it wouldn't be wise of you, to start a war with him. He's the butler, and he's in charge of the house.' Thomas warned him, afraid that this silly scuffle sooner or later will turn into something more serious, and Patrick would regret it. 'At least make some small change in your appearance, to show Mr. Carson that you're listening to him, though you might not agree with all the things he demands from you. Maybe he'd let it go at some point.'

'Fine, I'd think about that, Mr. Barrow.' The footman sighed, his good mood flew away. 'And thank you, for your advice.'

'I'm only doing what Mr. Carson expects me to do- taking care of you.' Patrick smiled softly at him, the warmness emanated from his hazel eyes. 'I won't keep you longer. Tomorrow is going to be a very tough day for us and we all have to be rested. Goodnight…_pup_.' Again he used the nickname, but in his mouth it didn't sound like insult, but more like caress- the way you would talk to someone you care for. Patrick knew he was looking for too much in that case, but he'd like to think that he has someone who'd look after him. He almost forgot about the previous night and he believed Mr. Barrow hadn't meant to be so mean to him. He probably just has been too tired or something upset him. It hasn't been the same kind Mr. Barrow who was just standing in front of him, right now.

'Goodnight Mr. Barrow.' He murmured and with a shy smile slipped inside his bedroom. He'd think about doing something with his appearance, just like Mr. Carson has wished. Though the only reason why he'd do that, was to please Mr. Barrow.

* * *

'You're still there, Mr. Carson?' Mrs. Hughes called surprised, when she noticed the butler coming out of from his room. 'I thought everyone are already in their beds.'

'I needed to check the list once more, before I go sleep. The picnic has to go smoothly. There cannot be any mistakes.' She barely stopped herself from a sigh.

'I'm sure everything goes smoothly, just like always, Mr. Carson.' She assured him with a smile. 'You have to rest, Mr. Carson. We all have to.'

'I know, Mrs. Hughes, but recently I have a lot of things to think about.' He sighed heavily and looked toward the stairs. 'And young Mr. Coleman gives me another reasons to worry.' He admitted.

'Oh?' Mr. Hughes glanced surprised at the butler. 'I think he's really nice, young lad, and Thomas said he's very hard-working. I think he is even pleased with him, though I noticed there was some small misunderstanding between them at breakfast.'

'I don't doubt, Thomas is very pleased with Patrick's presence.' He scoffed. 'I saw that by myself.' Mrs. Hughes looked at him heavily.

'Mr. Carson, because Thomas is just like he is, it doesn't mean he's going to bother all men who for some reason will stay in Downton.'

'He said that Patrick is very good looking.' Mr. Carson boomed like it was essential proof that he is right about the under butler.

'I'm sure all of us can say the same, Mr. Carson.' She replied without blink of an eyes. 'Patrick is handsome, and there is no doubt about that. I can assure you, that Thomas isn't the first or the last who found him attractive. And it doesn't mean he's trying to seduce him.' The butler looked bewildered. 'Let alone to say he's not over James, yet.' She added quieter.

'It was a year ago.' The butler noted in disbelief.

'As they say, love cannot be compelled, Mr. Carson.' She smiled sadly, while he huffed.

'I just hope it wouldn't end in someone's tears, again.' He muttered and glanced briefly at the woman. 'Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes.' He nodded and headed toward the stairs, having enough of the all drama as for one day.


	4. Chapter 4

His hands were all slick and smelled unpleasantly of the pomade that Mr. Carson so badly has insisted to see on his hair. He bite down on the low lip and reluctantly began rub it in between dark strands, wondering if Mr. Barrow is using so much of his cologne, because he wants to kill the odor of pomade. With the corner of an eye he noticed Mr. Bagwell watching him from behind with a cunning face, looking like he really enjoyed himself.

'Would you stop smirking at me?' He snapped annoyed. 'You were supposed to help me, not having a fun at my cost.'

'But I don't know how I'm supposed to help you.' He replied with raised eyebrow as he kept watching the footman who was trying to get his hair in order.

'I've never used a pomade. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that.' He sighed and looked back at the valet. 'I thought you could show me.'

'I've never used it, either.' He confessed and bite down on his lip. 'But you just have to smoother it over your hair and then comb them back, so they won't hang down above your eyes.'

'I figured it out by myself, thank you very much.' Patrick scowled and looked critically at his own reflection in a small mirror. 'The problem is they don't want to lay the way I want them.'

'Because you're rubbing a pomade into the skin of your head!' He rolled his eyes and with pulled out face gingerly touched Patrick's hair. 'You have to make them lay flat, just like that.' He reluctantly demonstrated, sure of his skills, though the end result of his work didn't look like he had imagined it to be. The longer strands were making something close to elliptic paraboloid over Patrick's head, and the rest of his hair looked like it was wet of water. The footman gritted his teeth together and reached out for a towel, so he could wipe out that smelly thing from his head. 'Oh, please, it was almost done, and now look at you! You ruined it all!' Mr. Bagwell whined and pulled back with annoyed face.

'I doubt Mr. Carson would be any happier with my new handiwork, than with my previous hairstyle.' He snapped and threw a towel on the ground. 'I look funny!' He barked, close to tears, when his friend approached him with mischievous smile.

'Maybe instead you'd like me to help you with that?' He asked with a smirk and gently ran a finger over man's goatee and down his neck, making him shiver. 'Or maybe ask Mr. Barrow, I'm sure he'd love to touch your _cheek_.' He said in teasing voice and chuckled.

'I have no intention of shave it completely, and I don't see a reason why Mr. Barrow would like to help me with this.' There was that smile on Mr. Bagwell's face which he wears whenever he knows something that Patrick doesn't. 'Care to tell?' He prompted.

'Oh, it's nothing, really.' He said with innocent face. 'I just heard some gossips…'

'What gossips?'

'Well, Mr. Barrow…' He trailed off, when a sudden though occurred in his head. 'Exactly, Mr. Barrow!' He exclaimed.

'But what Mr. Barrow?!' Patrick was losing his patience with him.

'He's using pomade, isn't he? I'm sure he'd be more useful than me.' The valet suggested with a small smile. 'He won't say no, he's too much fond of you.'

'I think you exaggerate with him being fond of me.' Patrick disagreed, though he wouldn't mind if the under butler indeed was. He'd like Mr. Barrow to be his constant companion – he was sure, they both could make a perfect match. 'Besides I didn't intent to show myself to him, before I get everything in order.'

'Well, well, what a lady of you.' He mocked and hissed with pain when the footman has slapped him on the arm. 'You don't have to take everything so personal!'

'Fine, I'll ask him to help me.' He sighed deeply and kissed softly the corner of Mr. Bagwell's lips. 'And I'm sorry for hurting you.' He apologized sincerely with warm eyes. 'I didn't mean to.'

'Apology accepted.' The valet muttered with a gleam in eye. 'Well, you can't blame me for being jealous…'

'Of Mr. Barrow?' He looked at him in disbelief, clearly surprised with man's revelation. 'You're ridiculous! I'd never, ever thought about him in any sexual way, and you know that.'

'Oh, really?' The challenge in valet's voice angrier him even more. He couldn't believe his own ears. 'You like him, you talk about him all the time.'

'I do not!' He protested, flustered, though the long, knowing look from Mr. Bagwell cooled him down, and made him realize that he might be right in some parts. He looked panicked around the room. 'Well, I like him, and there's nothing wrong about that!' He crossed his arms against chest, feeling like a deer caught in a trap.

'I'm only saying you never know what might happen, that's all. I don't attack you, Patrick, and I don't suggest anything, either. It was only observation, and well, I wanted to satisfy my curiosity.' He didn't like that forced smile, but decided to let it go. The valet was only winding him up. Just like always.

'I hope you already satisfied it.' He murmured irate and picked up a jar with pomade. 'And if I was you, I'd try to be more talkative around people.' He added, deciding it was time to pay back.

'What do you mean?' He inquired alarmed.

'You barely talk with anyone, they began wonder what kind of secret do you keep.' The valet shifted nervously on the feet. 'If you don't want to expose Lord Brasher and his _crafty _plan, I'd advise you to think about what I said.' He couldn't help a small smirk forming on his lips, finding the whole situation amusing.

'They would never find out, unless you tell someone.' Patrick kissed lightly the pale cheek.

'I don't see a point why I'd like to do that.' He shrugged off. 'Besides if I reveal your secret, nothing would stop you from return the favor.'

'You can be sure I will.' Mr. Bagwell muttered back with a wicked smile and watched the other man walking toward the door.

'I'll keep it in my mind.'

* * *

Thomas has barely buttoned up his shirt, when a soft knock came to his ears. He glanced at the mirror and smoothed his hair once again. He smiled to himself and before he has a chance to open the door, someone has done it for him. He was ready to reprimand whoever has an audacity to walk into his room without his permission, when he recognized it was Patrick. _Well, who else could it be, _he thought with a smirk, as he already has learnt that the footman doesn't has any manners at all.

'I'm sorry I burst in here like that, – _At least this time he felt obligated to apologize_, he thought sarcastically, - but I need very badly your help.' Thomas had on the tip of his tongue a question how _badly _he meant, but restraint himself. Instead he took a look at the young footman and noticed a small changes. Most of his dark hair were flattened at the top of his head, goatee trimmed neatly and he could smell a faint scent of perfumes floating around the man. He looked more _civilized _as Mr. Carson would say, and was even more attractive, than the first time he'd has seen him. And somehow it made him feel uneasy again.

'So, what do you need, then?' He asked causally, hoping his voice wouldn't betray how nervous he was.

'I need a favor.' The under butler raised his eyebrow questioningly, his mind occupied with a wild scenes of the favors he'd like to do for the young footman. 'I don't know how to use a pomade, and you're seemed to be an expert with it.' Patrick explained further, his cheeks were rosy pink. 'I've tried to smooth them…'

'Well, I already have my hair done, but if you insist I could instruct you…' He didn't finish as Patrick grinned at him widely and unceremoniously stood in front of him with his back turned to him. Thomas watched him agape, when he handed him a jar of pomade.

'Thank you very much, Mr. Barrow.' He muttered and kept watching Thomas in the mirror, waiting for his first move. Thomas was petrified; it was already a torture he had to stand so close to Patrick, let alone touch him.

'Are you sure?' His breath hitched.

'I don't want to stay in Mr. Carson's bad books to the end of my stay in Downton.' He smiled at the mirror, and Thomas cautiously dip his fingers in a slick pomade. He took a deep, long breath and gently began smooth the hair toward the back of head, in gently voice advising Patrick how he's supposed to take care of them every morning. The lad was nodding his head as far the under butler was letting him, in understanding, didn't dare to come into older man's word, and was trying his best to keep his eyes open. But the gently caress of Thomas slender fingers felt too good to focus on the correct use of pomade. He wanted to purr like a cat when the under butler tugged softly at a few long bands of hair and moved them behind Patrick's ears, his eyes unwillingly closed.

'You might cut them down a bit.' Thomas advised in a low voice, his eyes over and over kept staring back at the mirror, so he could watch the younger man's reaction to his efforts.

'What about the long strands at the front?' Patrick sighed. 'I look silly when I brush them back.'

'Because you're silly.' He retorted and smirked as he noticed a flash of anger in hazel eyes, which has snapped opened in a minute. 'There's no other way like make a fringe of them.' Before he could complain, Thomas grabbed for his brush and gingerly combed the long strands at the left side of Patrick's face and let it fall over his eye. 'Now, you do look much better.' He stated, deciding his new hairstyle was giving him a bit of character. 'You just need a last touch.' He murmured and reached out for pomade.

'Yes, it looks nice.' Patrick said carefully, not quite enjoying his wet-like hair, but he liked the fringe. 'I think you lost your vocation, Mr. Barrow. You should be a barber, not serving at Downton.' If it meant he could touch him more, he wouldn't mind to take care of his hair every day.

'And what's the difference between being a servant or barber? In both cases you're supposed to serve other people. Besides I doubt putting a pomade on the hair it's the only thing the barber is doing.' His voice dripped with sarcasm.

'Well, yes, but you have a nice hands, so...' He smiled softly and closed his eyes when Thomas ran a hand through his hair, causing Goosebumps all over his body. 'Ah, Mr. Barrow.' He gasped, when the fingertips touched the sensitive skin behind his ear.

'Yes, pup?' The under butler muttered, didn't stop massaging the skin. His lips parted, so inviting, it took Thomas all his willpower to not lean closer and kiss them.

'I think they look fine, Mr. Barrow. My hair, I mean.' He stuttered and with a deep blush pulled out from the man, didn't feel so embarrassed with his body reactions in ages. He should know better to not ask the under butler for help, knowing how sensitive he is when someone plays with his hair. _Damn you, _he thought angrily, when the cunning face of Mr. Bagwell flashed in his mind. 'Thank you for your time.' He hoped Mr. Barrow wouldn't think he is _different_; that was the last thing he needed right now.

'Whenever you need my help, don't be afraid to ask. I'd try my best.' Thomas offered with a small smile, hoping he wouldn't notice how disappointment he was that he can't touch him anymore.

'You're so kind, Mr. Barrow.' Patrick muttered and as quickly he arrived, so he left the room, leaving Thomas alone. The under butler wasn't kind. Deep down he knew he was doing it only for purpose to get closer to the footman, and convince the young thing they don't have to stop at the small touches they've already shared. Judging by his reactions, Patrick seemed to be an easy target, and if he plays it right, he might enjoy his visit in Downton more than he has ever thought he would.

* * *

'Ah, there you are, pup!' Lord Brasher beamed, when he spotted a young man rushing behind the pillars in the Hall Entrance.

'Good morning, my Lord.' Patrick bowed with a small smile and reluctantly approached the older man already in his brown, _hunting_ clothes and with big sunflower pinned – probably by his beloved daughter - to his hat. 'Have you been looking after me?'

'Yes, I have.' The lord nodded and moved closer to the footman. 'I hadn't asked you, yet, how are you feeling about living and working in Downton. Do they treat you good? I mean, other servants, of course.'

'Oh, yes, my Lord, they're very helpful and nice to me.' Patrick replied, a flash of surprise crossed his face. 'I really enjoy my stay in here.'

'I hope so.' Lord Brasher smiled widely, and like always it has been in the habit, he was going to ruffle the footman's hair, when at the last moment he has noticed that there was something different about the lad's appearance. 'Have you cut your hair?' His eyebrows drew closer, as he tried figure out what was missing.

'No, my Lord, I just used pomade.'

'Why?' Lord Brasher inquired with a stern look.

'Mr. Carson is afraid my appearance is beyond the standards of the house.' Patrick explained further, couldn't stop himself from a small grimace. 'I was also asked to shave.'

'It is ridiculous!' The older man exclaimed at the whole Hall. 'How I am supposed to recognize you in the crowd, when you'd be looking like any other servant in the house?!' The footman shook his head slightly, get used to his specific humor, when Lord Brasher was shaking with laugher, enjoying his little joke.

'I don't think Mr. Carson would sees it that way.' He stated with a dry voice and took a step back as he noticed Lord Grantham making his way toward them. 'Good morning, my Lord.' He bowed.

'Ah, good morning, Patrick.' Lord Grantham said back with a small smile. 'We are ready to go, if you are, George.'

'Yes, of course, I am. I was just talking with Patrick to kill the time. Melanie and Charlotte are beyond endurance, when they are trying to fit into their new dresses.' He rolled his eyes with a snort. 'And you should tell me that Patrick does not meet the standards of the house, so I could do something about that.' The footman's cheeks were drained off the color.

'I would, if I know about that.' Lord Grantham said with a frown, surprised with revelation. 'And in truth I do not understand the problem. Patrick looks clean and smart.' He noted and eyed up the young lad.

'I believe your butler does not improve pup's unusual look. And he made it quite clear.' Lord Brasher persisted, clearly demanding from his friend to make the decision.

'Carson?' He more stated than asked, and sighed heavily. 'I'm sure he doesn't has nothing wrong on his mind. He is just old-fashioned and sometimes it is very hard for him to catch up with today's fashion. Still I would tell him to not be so harsh on Patrick. He is your servant.' A faint smile crossed the lad's face.

'I'm sure we can make some compromise.' The other man grinned and patted Patrick's back. 'But that it is for other time. Now, let's go hunt!' He rubbed his hands together.

'But what is all about your hat? Is it a sunflower?' Lord Grantham asked in disbelief as he spotted the unusual thing decorating man's hat, his eyebrows drew closer.

'It was Charlotte's idea. She thought it might look good.'

'Yes it might, when you're the one who'd be hunted.' Patrick bite down on his low lip to stop himself from burst into laugh. 'I really don't think it is wise to be so much on the view, George. Someone might take you for…_someone _else.' He continued softly, hoping he wouldn't offend his friend's feelings, though, after one look at his suddenly red face he knew the damage has been already done.

'And have you ever seen a boar with a sunflower?!' Lord Brasher bristled annoyed, making his point, while the footman used the occasion to run back to the Servant Hall, before one of the men bring him into conversation.

* * *

James was bored. He had enough lying in the bed and though he'd never been first to work, he'd just give anything to be able to go down and help others. Though he wouldn't mind if someone just visit him and stay for a small chat or round of poker. But no, no one thought about that, even Mr. Barrow hadn't show up, though he has promised him he will. _Bunch of liars, _he thought angrily, couldn't believe no one cares.

He threw the quilt off his body and pulled his feet down. A hiss of pain escaped his lips when he tried to stand up, and he'd be already lying sprawled across the bed if he hadn't reached for a bedside table on time. He kept his injured foot in the air, till the pain has reduced, and tried to take a small step. He cried with hurt and decided that he might not be in good enough condition to get back to work, yet. Upset, he has slumped back on the bed, at the same time as someone knocked on the door.

'Come in.' He called with a tired voice and leaned against the wall. His eyebrows raised up in surprise, when an unknown young man slipped inside his room. With some difficulties he balanced a tray to his bedside table and clearly relieved put it down. 'Who are you?' He scowled at the lad.

'I'm Mr. Bagwell, Lord Brasher's valet.' He introduced himself with a pitching voice and stood straight in front of him. 'Since everyone are very busy with preparations for the picnic, Mr. Carson asked me if I could bring a breakfast for you.' He explained further, when James kept watching him with the same confused and irate face. 'Lord Brasher doesn't need me at the moment.'

Well, thank you, Mr. Bagwell.' James said flatly, still surprised with an unusual visit. It wasn't the valet's place to be – Mr. Carson shouldn't let anyone stranger walk into James or other servants rooms without their consent.

'Do you need anything else?' He asked softly, dauntless by the other man combative behavior, and took a look around the room. 'Shall I open the window? It's very dusty in here, and today's very warm outside.'

'If you insist…' He shrugged off and warily watched the valet. 'Do you perhaps know when Alfred or Mr. Barrow are going to see me? They promised to drop a few books for me.' He asked casually, hoping he didn't sound too desperate.

'Oh, well, Mr. Barrow doesn't has any free time since he has to take care of Mr. Coleman.' James winced. He knew from the same beginning that there was something more going on between Thomas and the new footman, than his friend has admitted. James felt betrayed and lonely like has never before, as he thought how Mr. Barrow very quickly replaced him with a young, probably very good-looking, Mr. Coleman. 'And Alfred doesn't want to see you, after how badly you treated him last time.' Mr. Bagwell informed him and sat at the free chair.

'Ah, that one.' James muttered as he recalled the scene he has made in front of poor footman. He hadn't meant to offend him or threw a plate after him, Alfred just has chose the worst moment he could to visit him. 'That would explain why he's not coming to see me.'

'I could ask him to come over for a minute, so you could apologize to him.' He offered, but the first footman wasn't convinced at all if there is really a need to apologize to Alfred. It was just one, innocent quarrel between friends - one of the many others they've already shared – nothing serious.

'There's no need to bother him.' James decided. 'I'll just talk with him, when I come back to work.'

'As you wish.' Mr. Bagwell nodded with a small smirk, his eyes fixed at the other man's face. 'If you don't need anything else, I have to go. I'm sorry, but I can't keep you company, although if you wish I can come over after work. I could ask Mr. Barrow to give me that books you wished to read.' He offered.

'Oh, that would be really kind of you, Mr. Bagwell.' He might not know the man, and normally would show him the door, but so far he was the only one interested in visit him and even offer his free time to spend it with him, so he decided his company wouldn't be such a bad idea at all. He bet Mr. Coleman would never offer anything like that, as he is too busy fawning like a dog around Thomas legs and making sure he'd get James position. _The little bastard. _

'I'll see you later, then.' The valet smiled at him in friendly manner and in hurry walked out of the bedroom.

'Yea, see you.' James muttered and threw himself on the pillow.

* * *

Daisy practically pushed the basket with packed lunch into his hands, before he even crossed the threshold of the kitchen, and shooed him back without hearing what he wanted to say. He muttered annoyed something under his nose and almost get a slap from the wet cloth gripped tightly in cook's hand, when he had stood on her way.

'You're still there?!' Mrs. Patmore growled with a red face, sparks poured in from her small eyes. 'Daisy already gave you a basket, so what are you waiting for? Take it upstairs!' Patrick tightened his jaw and marched out of the kitchen, didn't has any clue what he's supposed to do. Mrs. Patmore and Daisy didn't feel obligated to tell him something more, and there was no signs of Mr. Barrow downstairs.

'Mr. Coleman?' He wasn't sure if he should feel relief when Mr. Carson's voice called behind his back, or get worried that he'd get an ear-bashing for standing in the middle of corridor like the last idiot.

'Mr. Carson!' He said back with a small smile and turned around, deciding he was indeed happy to see the butler. 'I'm so happy to see you, Mr. Carson. I really don't know what to do and I can't find Mr. Barrow, anywhere.'

'Mr. Barrow is helping Mr. Bates with the alcove and he will not be able to help you in any way.' There was something in the way he had said the last words, Patrick didn't like at all. He felt almost offended, like he has been accused of something. 'I see you have tried to do something with your appearance.' He noted with not quite pleasing expression on his face.

'I've tried my best, Mr. Carson, and I think I look good enough to not embarrass Lord Grantham round his guests.' It was a bit cheeky from his side and dangerous as today he was sentenced to the butler's company, and there was no Mr. Bagwell or Mr. Barrow in sight to save him.

'We will see.' Mr. Carson said shortly with gloomy face. 'Now, what was that problem you had, Mr. Coleman?'

'Daisy gave me a basket without saying a thing, and so far I don't even know my duties for today, since Mr. Barrow disappeared just after the breakfast.'

'Mr. Bagwell offered he'd help outside, so give the basket to him. And about you… I think you'd stay in Downton and help with silvers, till luncheon. Later you'd serve at table in alcove.' The man decided after awhile.

'Oh.' Patrick didn't hide his disappointment. 'As you wish, Mr. Carson.' He muttered and looked bitterly toward the butler's tiny room. He should knew that day would turn into completely disaster for him.

'And I'm asking you to not bother Mr. Barrow, today. If you have any questions or problems, speak to me.'

'Yes, Mr. Carson.' He nodded, unhappy.

'Mr. Bagwell is still in Servant's Hall. Don't forget to give him a basket and clean the all silvers.' Mr. Carson's face softened as his eyes followed the young footman until he disappeared in the Servants Hall, and shook his head slightly.

'I really don't understand how it is going to help anyone, if you keep punishing Patrick for something he hasn't done.' Mr. Carson didn't has any clue when and how long Mrs. Hughes was watching them, but for sure she was just standing behind his back now, with unreadable face.

'I'm not punishing him, Mrs. Hughes.' The butler disagreed. 'I do not!' He added fiercely seeing the woman's impassive face, feeling offended with an accusation.

'I'm sure he'd rather to be outside Downton, than sit here alone, cleaning silvers.' Mrs. Hughes noted and gave the man a look she'd always has given to a petulant child. 'Mr. Carson if anything is going to happen - though I doubt in it - between Patrick and Thomas, it will happen no matter how hard you would try to keep them away from each other.'

'Fred, the hall-boy, said he has seen Patrick in Thomas room, this morning.' The butler said with red face. 'Thomas was helping him in dressing.'

'I would be more concerned why the hall boy was spying on Thomas and what he was doing upstairs. Wasn't he supposed to work?' The butler watched her unimpressed.

'I asked Fred to search for Thomas, as he was already late. I was worried he overslept and we will not prepare everything on time.' He explained, a corners of Mrs. Hughes lips goes upward in a light smile.

'Well, Thomas already informed us that Patrick's livery has to be send to tailor, maybe he couldn't button it up or have the other problem with it.' She suggested, but the man didn't look convinced.

'If it was not harmful help, Fred wouldn't say a word about that to me, only keep it for himself. It had to troubled him whatever he has seen as it was worth to bring it to my attention.'

'He was only following your orders, Mr. Carson. If you forget, since the accident with James, we are ought to report to you if we find Thomas in a close company of another man. I believe he thinks that whenever Thomas is alone with a man, he is intimate with him.'

'I don't think that's the reason, Mrs. Hughes.' The man disagreed with a snort. 'And I really do not understand why you are always on Thomas side. We both know he is far from being innocent.'

'If he has done anything inappropriate, I can assure you, Patrick would be first to report that to you. But he hasn't complained on Thomas, yet, has he? I would even say he is very eager to be around him and is seeking for help at Thomas.'

'It will not harm anyone, if Patrick stays away from Thomas for awhile.' The butler decided. 'I'd take him under my care.'

'I'm sure he will be pleased with that.' Mrs. Hughes with ironic smile and with a shake of her head, she walked off in the opposite way.

'I know what I'm doing!' He called after her, but she hadn't answer or stop.

* * *

Mr. Bagwell passed by him with an impish grin while he was fighting with very stubborn stain on the silver saucer, didn't bother to even look at him. It took Patrick's all efforts to not threw at him a toothbrush he was using for the last few minutes to scrub gently some grease. Alfred followed him shortly, but in contrary to Charles, he stopped on the track when he noticed the footman, clearly in the mood for a friendly chat, while Patrick wasn't, even in a one bit. _Maybe if I pretend I don't see him, he'd just go away, _he pondered, though it was obvious that the other man wasn't going to leave him alone.

'Are you cleaning the silvers?' Alfred asked stupidly like it wasn't already obvious what is he doing with that all silvers exposed on the table.

'And how does it look like?' He snapped sarcastically back and nervously rubbed his nose.

'Mr. Barrow asked you to do that?' He continued his play with hundred questions, his face pulled out with confuse.

'No, Mr. Carson.'

'But we need you outside.' Patrick smirked and returned to scrub at the saucer with a toothbrush.

'Try that one with Mr. Carson.' Alfred's eyebrows drew closer, eyes looked at him in sympathy. 'You might be lucky enough to get only an ear-bashing instead of being ripped apart by him.'

'Have you told Mr. Barrow about that?' With every questions he was getting even more irate with the ginger.

'I haven't seen him.' He hoped his short answers will bore Alfred and he goes away. But to his dismay he was still hovering above him and if it could be any worse, the butler joined them looking like a hailstorm. Patrick quickly get back to work and Alfred got himself busy with a dirty left leg of his trousers.

'Is everything alright?' Mr. Carson asked, his hard stare fixed at Alfred. 'Shouldn't you work outside? Ladies are almost ready to go.'

'Oh, we're almost done, Mr. Carson.' The footman quickly replied and stood straight. 'We just need to bring the chairs.'

'Then what are you waiting for?' He thundered. 'Go, take them.' He ordered irate.

'But there's only me and Mr. Bagwell to bring the chairs.' Alfred explained with a red cheeks, feeling very intimidated under butler's stare. 'Mr. Barrow and Mr. Bates are taking care of alcove, so it would take us half of the day to get everything in order. We need someone to help us.' Patrick's one eye glared in anticipation at the oldest man who seemed to consider Alfred's note. 'It's Mr. Barrow decision.' He added, hoping that would be helpful in his further negotiation with the man, and that Mr. Barrow will go along with his lie.

'Everything has to be done in one hour.' Mr. Carson informed, his bushy eyebrows drew in closer. 'Tell Mr. Barrow I'll ask Mr. Moseley to help you with chairs. It shouldn't take him long to come over.' Alfred's face fall down.

'But Mr. Carson, we need help right now! We can't wait another half hour for Mr. Moseley!' He argued and looked in despair toward smirking at him Patrick. 'We already have Patrick, here, and Mr. Moseley loves cleaning silvers.' The butler looked almost offended with Alfred's disobedient.

'I'm in charge in Downton and it is me who says who, were and what are going to do, Alfred.' He reminded, barely stopping himself from shout at the lad. 'Patrick is staying in here, just as I wished.'

'But why, Mr. Carson?' The older man watched him in utter surprise – normally Alfred would already give up and just go to do what he was asked to, but today he was not only undermine the butler's order, but was putting him into some nonsense discussion. 'We really need his help.'

'Outside is very muddy today and since Patrick has only one pair of shoes, I won't let him walk around Ladies and serve at table in a dirty ones.'

'But you said I'd serve at table today.' Patrick noted with a hint of panic in his voice, surprised with man's answer. There was no way he was going to spend all day in Servants Hall cleaning silvers. 'You hadn't say nothing about sho…'

'That's all Mr. Coleman.' Mr. Carson came into his word with a hard gaze.

'Oh, does it mean I have to change my shoes also?' Alfred asked worried, trying to recall where he had put his the other pair. The butler looked dumbfounded for a moment, but very quickly collected himself back.

'I thought it is obvious.' He said sharply, and the ginger footman almost growled.

'Of course, Mr. Carson.' He muttered and gave Patrick apologetic smile. 'I'll go and help Mr. Bagwell.' The butler has watched him intently until he disappeared behind the door, and he moved his eyes at other footman.

'Do you know what to do?' He asked softer. 'If you need any advise with silvers…'

'Mr. Barrow already showed me how to effectively clean them up without making any damages to their surface.' Patrick said firmly, didn't hide his anger. 'I believe I am able to take care of them on my own.'

'Very well, then.' The footman ignored him, knowing that if the man stays here any longer, he'd say something he shouldn't. It was enough he already got a punishment and wasn't looking forward to get another one. It was obvious that Mr. Carson would make sure he won't leave the Servant's Hall till his leaving day – though he didn't understand why he was treated so badly by him - and he'd give anything to see Mr. Barrow in doors.

* * *

Thomas was daydreaming. A silky, white material which was supposed to hanging down from the roof of the alcove in a poor imitation of the wall, was still in under butler's hands - his long fingers were crumpling the soft material, creating wrinkles on its surface – and Bates didn't has to ask Thomas what is he doing. A small smirk formed on his lips as he watched the absent man with a dreamy smile, being far away from Downton. He looked so calm and relaxed, Bates didn't wish to break the spell and just leave him to enjoy his little world, but he also knew it wouldn't take too much time for the butler to check if they're finished with alcove.

'Are you still with us, Thomas?' He asked amused and gently pulled out the material from between the under butler's fingers. 'If you keep kneading it further, Mr. Carson make sure we won't forget that picnic for the next month.' Thomas eyes snapped back to the reality, and he looked around himself confused, looking like he just has been woken up from a dream.

'Oh, right. I have to drift away for a moment.' He muttered with slightly pink cheeks and quickly got back to work, trying to avoid the valet's stare.

'Indeed you have to.' Bates nodded with a chuckle, deciding he'd spare the fact that Thomas was lost in his thoughts for more than twenty minutes.

'Where's Mr. Bagwell?' Thomas asked suddenly, noticing there was no signs of the man around, and he even didn't remember he has let him to go anywhere. Was it another act of his insubordinates? If it was the case, he'd make sure that this time he'd learn to not play with a fire.

'He and Alfred went back to house to bring the chairs.' Bates informed. 'About ten minutes ago.' Another flush appeared on under butler's normally pale cheeks. 'I believe Mr. Bagwell needs a one as well as Ladies. He's too short to reach the top of alcove.' He continued with a smirk, not quite being fond of the valet. He reminded him of Thomas from his early days in Downton, and there was something about him what makes Bates feel uneasy around him.

'It should be Patrick giving us a hand, not Mr. Bagwell. It was obvious from the beginning he's not suitable to that work, and I don't understand why Carson sent him, here.' Thomas muttered and frowned, when he suddenly realized that he hasn't seen Patrick since the breakfast, and hadn't even told him about today's duties. 'Christ, I knew I've forgotten something!'

'Sorry?' Bates raised his eyebrow questioningly, when Thomas began walking back and forth, taking deep breaths.

'I forgot about Patrick. I was supposed to take care of him.' For a change, this time his cheeks were unnaturally pale. 'Carson will kill me.'

'I'm sure he wouldn't do that, if he hasn't done it yet. He probably spotted Patrick after breakfast and already give him something to work.' Bates assured him. 'He is too much absorbed with picnic to waste his time for you.'

'Maybe.' The under butler said unconvinced and walked into direction where he has spotted Mr. Bagwell and Alfred moving toward the alcove with four chairs. 'Have you seen Patrick?!' He called, worried.

'He's in the house.' Mr. Bagwell replied shortly and almost huffed, when his hopes about Mr. Barrow going down to help him with the chairs, have been ruined, when the man rushed by his side without looking at him.

'Alfred?' He asked, clearly not satisfied with the other man answer.

'Oh, he's sitting in Servants Hall and clean silvers.' The footman replied and put the chairs down, when the under butler crossed his patch and it didn't look like he was going to let him go anywhere. 'It was Mr. Carson's order.' He added with panic voice, like he was afraid he'd be the one to be blamed for Patrick's absence.

'What?' Thomas snapped in disbelief. 'He's needed here, not in Downton!'

'I know! I said the same to Mr. Carson, well maybe not that forward, but I gave him a hint we could use Patrick's help…'

'And?' He inquired, though he already could imagine the only answer the butler could give to Alfred.

'Mr. Carson said that today is very muddy outside and since Patrick doesn't has any shoes for change, he can't work outside and later serve at the table in the same, dirty shoes.' Alfred said with sheepish smile. 'And I think he has a point. I've already changed mine.' He lifted his one foot to demonstrate the shiny, black boot. 'I'm sure Dowager Countess would be first to notice I'm serving in dirty shoes and nothing stops her from make some remark about that.'

'It makes no sense!' Thomas protested, blood boiled in his veins. 'Even if Patrick stays in Downton till luncheon, he needs to make his way through the muddy terrain to get to alcove.' He snapped, couldn't believe how naïve the footman could be, and how the butler tried to be so crafty. 'No matter how hard he or we will try, our shoes will be dirty, unless we learn that we can fly.' He added sarcastically and Alfred seemed to understand his point.

'So, Mr. Carson said that only to get rid off of me?' He watched the older man in disbelief. 'And I spent so much time to find my other pair of shoes!'

'I'll talk with Mr. Carson.' Thomas muttered, not in mood for further discussion with a ginger idiot.

'But he already sent for Mr. Moseley!' Alfred called after him.

'To help us with alcove?!' The under butler snapped in disbelief. 'Not a chance.'

'But Mr. Carson…' He trailed off as he noticed Thomas wasn't listening to him, only stormed out toward the residence.

* * *

He was like a one, very big puppy, and if he only has a tail, Thomas was sure it would be already waggling between his legs. His heart thumped against the ribcage, when the reason of his previous daydream has pulled back from the table and approached with full of hope smile.

'You're going out with me.' Thomas announced in the tone more like he was asking him for a date, not give him another job to do, but it was too late to improve yourself and he could only hope that he will not scare the lad.

'I thought you would never ask, Mr. Barrow.' His breath hitched, as the lad dazzled him with a full of teeth smile, and he looked so eager to follow him, Thomas wondered, if he indeed hadn't take his announcement for an intimate offer. 'But what about Mr. Carson?'

'I'd deal with him later.' _I don't think he'd be jealous, _the sick thought formed in his head made him smile. 'Now, leave the silvers, and follow me outside. There'd be much more use of you than from Mr. Bagwell.' He felt almost proud and awarded that the under butler had a better opinion about him than about Lord Brasher's valet. Normally, they've never been competitive with each other, but today he didn't mind to pinned his ears back, and bring him down to the Earth. Sometimes it just looked like Mr. Bagwell was forgetting that he was a servant just like the others in this house, and he was just asking for some reminder of his position. And the footman wouldn't mind to be the one to do that.

'Mr. Carson would be mad with us.' Patrick said in cheated whisper, his eyes nervously scanned the room in search for the butler.

'He'd get over it.' Mr. Barrow said flatly, didn't sound like he was concerned with that in any way.

'Thomas, could you just help me get the clean tablecloths from the linen closet?! Someone put them on the highest shelf.' Anna suddenly called from the upstairs.

'That's what the tools are for.' The under butler muttered annoyed and looked back at the footman. 'Wait here.' He said and made a quick way upstairs. Patrick fidget nervously on his feet and like paranoid kept scanning the room in search for Mr. Carson. But there was no one else except Lady Grantham, her middle daughter Edith and older woman he hasn't seen before, heading toward the saloon. He leaned back against one of the pillars and looked up at the stairs, hoping that Mr. Barrow would be back in a minute, when he felt that someone was watching him. He unsurely turned a bit his head and stopped breath for a moment, when his eyes crossed with the ones belonging to the old lady. She was standing in the doorway and watching him intently, surprise and shock written over her face. Cold shiver ran down Patrick's back and he frozen to the spot. A flash of realization passed through woman's eyes and he knew she'd recognized him. _She knows who I am, _he thought, feeling like the panic raised in his chest, _but how does she know? _He didn't remember her, yet, she seemed to know him very well. She was smiling back at him almost with triumph, the early surprised expression on her face, has been replaced with curiosity. He almost scream, when someone's hand rested heavily on his shoulder.

'What is going on with you?' Patrick blushed furiously under Mr. Barrows lingering stare.

'No-nothing, Mr. Barrow.' He muttered. 'Can you just tell me who is this old lady? I haven't seen her before.' Thomas eyebrows drew in closer.

'It's Dowager Countess.' He replied shortly, small smirk appeared on his face as he fixed his eyes back at Patrick. 'Why do you ask? Did you just have a pleasure to talk with her?'

'No, I haven't.' He just wanted to get out, and though she already moved into the saloon, he still could feel her stare at himself. 'Can we just go outside?' He almost begged, amusing the older man.

'After you, pup.' Thomas said with unfading smirk, knowing that the lad wasn't completely honest with him. He seemed to be almost scared of Dowager Countess – and he's not the first or the last to be – while in return he has noticed the look of interest on the old lady's face. Maybe it was because he was one handsome lad, but Thomas felt in his bones, that there was something more behind that. Dowager Countess has never been interested with someone without a good reason. And if he sticks closer to her, he might find the answers vey quick.

* * *

'I see you have a new young man in Downton.' Dowager Countess said, her eyes followed the man until he disappeared behind the door along with Mr. Barrow.

'Oh, yes, we have a new footman.' Lady Edith noted with a frown - she almost forgot about the new servant. 'Mr. Coleman, I think. Our first footman had an accident and has to be replaced till he feels better.' She added and helped her grandma sit in one of the armchairs.

'Where your father has found him?' She continued in casual manner, didn't give her interest back to her granddaughter. 'It is hard these days to find a good servant.' She observed.

'In truth it was uncle George's idea.'

'Oh, it was?' Dowager Countess acted surprised.

'Yes, he insisted to take Mr. Coleman with himself.'

'That is something very unusual.' She noted, and Edith agreed with her. 'I do not think anyone is taking the footman with themselves, these days. Not even before the war…George doesn't has his own valet?' She inquired.

'Oh, he has, Mr. Bagwell… To be honest, I think it might has something to do with Charlotte.' Edith explained in a confidential whisper. 'Mama said, that aunt was complaining they seemed to be very close with each other. They are almost like twins.'

'Who would thought that?' Dowager Countess shook her head in a false agitation. 'Poor George, you never know who you take under your roof, these days.'

'Yes, but at least we get a footman. He arrived in the right moment, and uncle George was very kind that he let him work for us.'

'Yes, that was very generous from his side.' She said with sardonic smile, which not escaped the attention of her granddaughter.

'Do you know something, grandma?' She prompted, curious.

'Why would I?' She asked back with innocent face, but Edith knew her too well to believe in that. She raised her eyebrow at Dowager Countess, a small smirk played at her face. 'I just believe that it is very wise of George to keep that boy close to himself. It is better to keep him on his side, than rather have him on a wrong side.' She said, but Edith didn't understand what she has in mind. 'You just cannot be sure of people intentions, these days. They may disappoint you in many ways, my dear.' She continued in sadly voice, while her eyes stopped at Lady Brasher walking with grace into the room. 'They really can.'


End file.
